You were so plump
so flush
so full of potential
at the start.
The zest,
the sense of possibility
was tangible all around you.
In your presence
I could almost smell the pulpy goodness.

But you’ve spent your years
refusing to be replenished.
Perhaps you’re frightened
of what could be.
Perhaps you know full well
and for some reason
it doesn’t suit you.
You could be so much.
You could have so much.

But now you’re nearing empty
after being squeezed far too many times.
There’s still a bit of tang left about you
but you’re almost gone.
All of your better qualities
have been wrung out
and there’s nothing left.

I pray that’ll change.
There’s always the chance
that there’s more to come from you.
I hope so.
I would just love to roll over
and enjoy you again
in the morning.
To taste you again…
that’d be sweet.