Locked hearts fruit

 Magenta

Among blackberry brambles

I’ve shed the most blood, all added up.

I brave, with a shaky hand, the thorny thicket,

swollen with glistening clustered purple drupelets.

She’ll spread her pink lips 

and chomp violently—

an exploding wet and erotic mess in her mouth—

and I wonder…

I wonder what’s got from mixing purple with pink?

I close my eyes so as to see better, and I  

discover magenta—tasting it too—as we smile 

and swoon.

This is not for D, but for J.