Achieving Immortality

You are under my skin,
peeling me with a steak knife
rather than a paring knife.
Yes, my skin is red
and my flesh is delicious.
Such a delicate balance of
bitter and sweet.
Juices melt out of me
and you lick your fingers,
as you keep peeling.

You always grab me.
Your favorite;
worth three pages
of decadent insight.
You say aloud that I
taste like the food of the gods.
Ambrosia!
Ambrosia!
You confer immortality.
You say; you...
can't get enough.

When you notice my bruises
your hands stop moving.
Will you love them?
Or will you cut them from me?

Decisions turn wild
when you partake of them too.

You have now eaten all of the red.
You say the best is sure to come.
The pages you set me on
become wet with nectar.
You take your knife
and place it gently on my head.
The blade is dripping my insides
onto my one leaf.
I smile.
You sever.

You continue to cut
and feast upon my glory.
You feel for a second
like you are penetrating magic
and distilling elements.

When you are finished
you are alone.
Just like you were before.
And you put my seeds
on your pages,
while the taste of ambrosia
still lingers.