It was the last drop
It flowed down my fingertips,
brushed across the grounds sweet lips
and pooled together in a kiss,
She brushed her eyes and cleaned my soul,
A flowing well or a dripping hole? 
I clutched your soul in my fist and loosened my knuckles to hold your hand
no trumpets playing no orchestra or band, but my heart was playing a slow beat for the moment, my eyes were serenading your heart and I can't condone it, my lips were roaming your luscious body, I own it
  Your hand was sweet, you blossomed when I held you but always held back afraid of me picking your fruit
The reality of it is, I never really like fruit. You see I just wanted to sit under your branches and share your shade to read a peaceful book. You were so worried about how it would look so worried about what everyone took, when I was waiting on the shelf to hear your thoughts like a notebook
Cuz your so scared of letting me see you, you know you can share but never feel free too, just know my heart is yours and I couldn't just leave you