Lust

The cold metal of my key spearing into the gentle bolt, 
Allowing entrance between the once clenched gate. 
Spreading the doors wide, 
My eyes feast upon the glorious, lusty pearl hidden inside, 
Playing the predator to the delicious bate.

The heady, musky fragrance of pomegranate strangling my jolt, 
Suffocating me in its euphoric bliss. 
The peachy flesh peaking, 
Its juices tantalizingly leaking,  
Just begging for a sultry kiss. 

Whipping out my knife for a feast, 
I plunge into the succulent flesh, 
Crimson rivulets leaking down my blade. 
The fruit quivering, almost afraid, 
With the squealing whimper, oh so fresh. 

Not caring in the least, 
I toss the ruined scraps to the dirt, 
Now in search of a riper,
Fresher, juicier,
More beautiful thing to hurt.