Secret Pear

I stole you
from the fruit bowl in our kitchen.
Placed in my bag
Your curvaceous figure
finds a space to sit
amongst the keys, purse and clutter.
I worry that my pens will press
and break your smooth dry skin.
In year five we were told
our wombs resembled your shape and size.
For me, you have always remained
this symbol of life and growth.
The seeds in you holding the potential
like the eggs in me.
Feeling around in my bag,
I grasp for your shape
and soon enough find you
facing my teeth,
a clear crisp mouthful
refreshes and quenches
and I continue to consume
working down your voluptuous curves,
Sshh… my secret Pear,
do not cry.

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