fallow
She peels secrets from him as if she were peeling a clementine. She drops pieces and bits to the floor her hands sticky, bitter to the taste, but smelling pleasant. He looks at her, raw and naked, and asks if this is enough. She says no. No, never enough. It is never enough. It will never be enough.
She cleans her fingernails of residue washes her hands and then plants seeds of him in ground she never plowed.











