Youβve ruined peaches for me. I canβt eat one without thinking of your hands dipping into my soft flesh, mouth dripping, teeth skimming across skin, tongue lapping at the excess: greedy, greedy, greedy. I am all rush and blush at a summer picnic lunch, hands shaking at the farmersβ market.
Trista Mateer,Β βPeaches,β The Dogs I Have Kissed (via lifeinpoetry)













