You hung from the stem, a weeping wormhole oozing tomato innards...And I reached for the ripest, most Pristine of the plant but grandpa always taught me not to be wasteful, to cut out the bad with my knife.
So I reached for you,
Thumb soft against the unblemished Portion of scarlet skin, siblings, green, declaring that you.. Had never blushed so deep and warm a hue before.
They did not see me slice...