My heart is like a ripe red tomato
When it gets bruised, the vegetable scent rises up, fresh,
too much fragrance
When it is crushed, the ruby red juices flow, like blood.
Dripping everywhere.
Don't be alarmed, its a good thing
think of the abundance of a harvest,
soil and water mixed with sunshine
I am a child of the earth.
I love and I cry.
And once, maybe it happened already
One day, maybe its coming
My tomato heart will meet that one,
that chef with a knife
that does not bruise,
that does not crush.
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