lick an orange, it tastes like an orange. the strawberries taste like strawberries! the snozzberries taste like snozzberries!
whoever heard of a snozzberry?
we.
the poem should end there because for one,
you should, by now, know
a damn snozzberry, tastes like a snozzberry an
orange, duh, but
still, you wanted
still, two everlasting
gobstoppers?
there is the death of love.
your already full and gorgeous gut
yet
gorging,
even if hearts had pits you’d
not spew
a single one out.