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Sirop de Fraise

pur sucre

Oh, fraise. You make me feel unsteady with your saccharine juice.

And, why so? I haven't the faintest idea.

It is particularly strange to think that I might be attached to a red fruit. A tiny one, at that.

Fraise, strawberry, is my God. It crafts a welcoming juice into my mouth's sensitive parts. I feel its nectar flowing in my lips, tongue and palate. It graciously stains my lips, leaving behind a natural reddish color and finally making me more esthetically appealing to men's eyes.

Fraise, fragola, brings me to paradise. While the essence floods down my esophagus, my cheeks burn. Try guessing where my mind went to? I couldn't tell you.

Fraise, fresa, la reina de las frutas. Why do they call her that? In its composition, it is the only fruit in the world that has the seeds on the outside. And in addition, its intense fragrance and sweet taste make it irresistible. So, remember that you are savoring the queen of fruits. Does this make you a queen too? Well, it depends. Do you have seeds on the outside? My man used to have freckels for seeds. He had them everywhere. Even in his adam's apple.

Fragum, fragaria, Fragaria. Wild strawberries grew in the forests of France and Italy during ancient Roman times. They used to believe that the "fraga" were special fruit that had medicinal properties and used them to heal wounds or to make spells.

Erdbeere, strawberry, the first fruit to ripen in spring, making them a delightful harbinger of warmer days. My man, who loved munching on some strawberries, smelled of their fragrance. And he augmented my fertility. I was devoted to his seeds and sperm. It would surge in my insides, producing a new feeling in my head. We had unique offsprings. They were all made of love and strawberries. We took care of them and brought them up, nurtured them to be as lavish and eager as strawberries.

Be careful about the origins of your strawberries. Check out their provenience, because in sylvis proveniunt fungi, fraga, myrtilli et cetera.

Placentne tibi fraga?

Bang bang

I hit the ground.

He lighted his cigarette and looked at me.

“Ya want sum?” he said to me. I nodded and he leisurely passed it to me.

I sighed as I smoked it. “I’ve never felt like this before.” I said.

“How so?”

“Seasons change you know? I change. I’m not the same. I never thought I’d start smoking cigarettes.”

He looked at me and took the cigarette outta my hand. “What do you mean exactly?”

Staring at the parking lot, I explained: “You know that I did weed and that shit but never nicotine. My father did it all the fucking time. Man was so crazy for it that whenever we’d tell him to quit smoking he would make empty promises. Hated him for that. Lied to us for all his life. And that’s how it brought me to hate nicotine.” looking back at him, I see him already staring at me. “Now, I smoke it once in a while. Should I be ashamed?”

He got a long hit and then answered: “Nah, doll. Look. When I was five, I used to stay at my pops and I knew that he always had a gun somewhere hidden in the house. Every Sunday I’d hear bangs coming from the backyard. In the morning I’d see dry blood in the yard. This went on for three years. None stop. And I never questioned my father’s decisions. But oh, how did I hate him for making them. Guess we all went through sumthin that traumatized us.”

I stared at him and hesitantly asked him “Do you still hear the bangs?”

He sadly smirked and looked up to the sky while responding to me with: “I hear Bang Bang every Sunday night. And I wake up scared to find dried blood in the backyard.”

I curiously asked: “Didn’t you even have the urge to ask him why he did that?”

“Of course I did, doll. I knew I’d get a beating because of it so I shut my mouth, forced my eyes closed and pushed myself to sleep with the bangs.”

I slowly slid to him and hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry, Wood. Why did you have to go through all that at such a young age?”

“One of us should suffer in this life babe. And God said it was my turn. Gotta accept it doll. Now don’t get sad because of me” He tilted his head down to take a look at me and he saw the tears that were shedding from my eyes. I sadly looked back at him and said: “You’re my baby boy. I love you. With my whole heart.”

“I love you Doll.”

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