Mother said to beware of the sly ones
The coy one that never made the same statement twice
She said to watch out for the sweet ones
They always had something bitter to hide
Mother said that the easy ones to catch would just as easily run away
Mother said that the longing and the thirst
Were mere tricks and gave no dietary gain

I plucked the dull one instead
it appeared innocent, deserving pity
I peeled it gently but realised later that it was already torn
I needed not do any work when it was already done
The taste was inviting; I couldn’t think to stop
But then the sour slap came like vinegar to my tongue
As the sweetness dispersed, a knife ran down into my throat
I dropped it quickly, but the damage was already done
It was impossible to forget the taste of something so raw

I know now that mother was not talking of udara that grows on a tree
She was talking about you and the lying webs you weave
– Damiloves

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