Lemonade.

I’m like a bottle of lemonade. Cold, sweet on the inside, my taste condenses into jewels that melt at the touch. I crave your tastebuds, you see. I’m tantalising and you’re just the same to me.

Like lemonade, once you find the right tool you can pull me open with a fizz. I’ll be consumed by you and wait to be digested. By the time you’re done with me I’m just a taste left in between your teeth.

Like lemonade, once drunk, only the bottle remains. I promise of a time that was had, a life that was lived. Someone has emptied me and that’s it. But like an unexpected firefly you fill me up again. This time with flowers and earth. Plainer, more wholesome. You fill me with something to grow. Like a bottle of lemonade, I’ll blossom thanks to you.