passionless passion

A passion yet to be plucked
Undevoured..
With the bitter taste of a just ripened fruit…
Where a bit of sour still lingers on
Shiny surface glistening..
With early morning dewdrops still trapped in its soft gold bristles..
Yet ..
The juicy seeds
Sucked dry by the same ring worms
That had nestled in cysts
Tearing the thick firm flesh
Of its innards..
What bee
Would perpetuate
This worm infested fruit?