He’d never cared much for strawberries,
but that summer her lips were so stained with the
juices that they were all he tasted.

And he’d never had a favourite fruit,
but two years later, a new girl is sat
in front of him, laughing at his jokes.

"If you could only eat one thing for
the rest of your life, what would it
be?" She asks playfully.

And he remembers how her hands
traced the veins in his neck and made
their way across his chest.
He remembers her soft breathing and
limbs draped across his shoulders.

"Strawberries." He tells her. "I could live
a life on nothing but strawberries."