the first poem i've written in many years (go easy on me)

sweet like rotting fruit

i remember you slicing harry & david pears

in your kitchen and feeding me

one heavenly slice at a time. 

the swish of the knife as you pressed 

through the skin and your thumb

in my mouth as you pushed each piece past my lips.

i remember the shiver down my back

when you kissed me, your own

lips fresh and sweet with pear juice

and craving a pear later that night

when your lips had left mine and

travelled elsewhere.

today i cut into a harry & david pear

and sliced my thumb with the knife.

instinctively i brought it to my lips and sucked,

the taste of warm copper and cold juice

mixing together into a new memory.

sometimes we need to overwrite. sometimes

we need to reminisce. there is no romance

in the taste of blood, but i'll take it

if it means that the next time i bite

into a pear, i won't remember you.