Tomato not Hole

I watched you grow,
before you,
there was
just a yellow
blossom
kissing the sun.

You came
into my world
a petite
emerald sphere.

Green to life
to me,
to all around.

Space, only
meant for you
to grow into.

Flowing into
the universe
as spring rain
into an empty sea.

Soon big as
a child’s fist.
Green smile
out from you face
and across the sky.

All a garden
to nourish
your soul.

Then,
in some dark
and unknown hour,
he came;
poked
pecked,
piercing
and ripping
a hole
into your
delicate flesh.

A wound
which grew
ever larger as
it devoured
your soft
sensuality.

Then the hellish
demon fled
as quietly and
mysteriously as
he arrived.

All I saw was
a wound,
a gaping chasm
plunging to
your core.

A gash which
never healed;
just painted
over with
scab,
dry and
crusty tan.

What remained
grew, though
torn and violated
as you were,
into more
than a small
green orb
you once
had been.

Green grew
to crimson,
like a
red sunset
on that parched
desert scab.

You floated
in space
suspended
in a web
of life giving
jade.

A fire red
beacon
drawing me
in, as a moth
to a flame.

As day
drew to a close;
I held you,
blushing
as you were.

Plucking you up
from the green
strand from
which you grew.

A kiss,
a bite,
as my lips
met yours
and teeth
sunk deep into
your tender flesh.

That first taste,
sweetest delight,
ripe,
full,
complete
and fresh.

In that moment,
time stood still,
like
a first
kiss stops
the stars.

The universe,
held its breath
and the life
behind it all,
sang with a
voice from
a paradise
from heaven’s
beyond.

Juice
blood red
flowed into
my being,
flushing it
with new life
animating my essence.

An elixir,
Soothing a
thirst
nothing else
could quench.

I floated,
lost in a world
of luscious lascivious
clouds; soaring
amongst towering,
ambrosial peaks.

Only after,
did I understand,
It was the tomato
that was you,
not the hole.