The simply complexitey
of eating strawberries on
His kitchen counter,
on the one night I had the chance
to lie in His bed,
In the pure bliss of
sexual tension and spiritual connection.

The blush of my skin was
as red as the fruit I was given moments before,
as He opened my mind and my body
unfolded to Him.

Reaching climax
again and again,
never fully coming down
from this contact high.

The morning after,
so quiet and still,
unwanting to break the fragile glass
we walked on.
Hands reaching out for
one last touch.
The strawberries are gone,
and what remains is
a gnawing despair
in the pit of my stomach.

One night of happiness.
One night of joy.

One night
to create an eternal longing
for something that
can never be again.

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