My heart is a raspberry,
conccave at the top where
something
has been yanked out of me,
a golden brown hairy ripeness.
Section-able,
I hold onto my vulnerability.
I wrap it around myself and it becomes a shield.
Latching myself together
I am hooking each plump orb to another.
The ones that will rot go together:
their moistness attracts the mold.
I sacrifice myself.
I may not be whole, but
I am delicous without them.
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