My love for you is like a teasing fruit
I yearn to bite a hundred times a day;
But once I pierce its skin, time will pollute
Each tasty morsel with tainting decay,
Fresh air will race against my hungry craving
To feast on passion while it still has flavor,
And I’ll eat up the prize I should be saving
Till there is nothing left for me to savor --
Which is, love, what most people everywhere
Mean when they say “I love you” to a mate --
A meal they both feel bound to serve and share
In memory of what they both once ate --
And why, my love, my gluttony I’ll fight
And from your sweet fruit never take a bite.Copyright 2010 Matthew J Wells
4 comments:
I know you're hoping to hear arguments to the contrary, but, no… you’re right. It's true. That is the only way to be absolutely sure it's will never go bad.
However, what is not touched upon here is that the bite and consequential decay is much better to have experienced than the anticipation. In art, less is definitely more, what the author/actor/director/artist comes up with and fully reveals/indicates/illuminates/whatever is never as savory or as titillating as what the audience’s imagination comes up with (like the mysterious, golden, never-revealed contents of the briefcase in Pulp Fiction or a hypothetical lingerie strap sliding down a shoulder as opposed to showing a boob). But that’s in art. In life, open up that damn briefcase! Rip off that lingerie! Will the desire ultimately fade (whether it be a lot or a little)? Sure thing! But while you’re eating that fruit it’s the best thing ever! And afterwards you may not remember what it tasted like exactly, but you’ll remember how much you enjoyed it.
Using the same analogy, I know that each consequential bite of my dinner will be less and less flavorful, but I’m still gonna eat. I’m hungry. Life is about eating. (…is it lunch time yet???)
I know you're hoping to hear arguments to the contrary, but, no… you’re right. It's true. That is the only way to be absolutely sure it's will never go bad.
However, what is not touched upon here is that the bite and consequential decay is much better to have experienced than the anticipation. In art, less is definitely more, what the author/actor/director/artist comes up with and fully reveals/indicates/illuminates/whatever is never as savory or as titillating as what the audience’s imagination comes up with (like the mysterious, golden, never-revealed contents of the briefcase in Pulp Fiction or a hypothetical lingerie strap sliding down a shoulder as opposed to showing a boob). But that’s in art. In life, open up that damn briefcase! Rip off that lingerie! Will the desire ultimately fade (whether it be a lot or a little)? Sure thing! But while you’re eating that fruit it’s the best thing ever! And afterwards you may not remember what it tasted like exactly, but you’ll remember how much you enjoyed it.
Using the same analogy, I know that each consequential bite of my dinner will be less and less flavorful, but I’m still gonna eat. I’m hungry. Life is about eating. (…is it lunch time yet???)
oops, I accidentally published twice. and also before I proofread. ugh.
"what a maroon! what an ignoranimus! what I nin-cow-poop. what a gull-a-bull!"
fuck! more typos! you'd think I'd learn!
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