Remove the label
 I’ve plied so much fuss and fret into,
 appealing to the masses.
Unwrap the darkest bittersweet
 encased in shiny packaging.
All it wants is to be
 gently warmed and melted in milk.

When the trees’ silhouettes stand
 against the night sky
 with just the stars peering back
 through time,
 it is a long, lone wait.
When wind blows
 and rushes through every leaf,
 who knows whence it comes
 and whither it goes?
There is a higher power, I suppose.

My ripe vegetation yearns,
 awaiting you,
my barren earth now lush,
 heavy with moisture.
My meadow contemplates
 how much is yours.
My lips’ gentle smile
 anticipates its creator.

Some sturdy–lipped dish it is,
 holding my heart upon the stump
 to catch the dredges
 as 5 times with the razor–edged axe you strike
  precisely cordoning it into 10 wedges.

I swoon as you daintily indulge each bite,
 dousing each sliver in its pulp
 before each tear
  when your incisors sink into my flesh;
when you swallow, it is my heart’s contentment.

My still heart beating around
 my fixed gaze,
mischievous imp mocks me,
 places a bow in my manikin hand
 and an arrow in my wooden fingers.
His ruddy flesh fashions my limbs
 into a dangerous tension.
In my disbelief I hear
 his flushed cheeks command:
“Take her out!”