Maybe the prospect of my inner core
would change over time creating me into a sour unpleasant mess. Am I worth the mess? And the sweetness of my blood that will stain and yet remain on your hands? Will you have to scrub me off ?
The mess of what you created of me remains? Did your feelings perpetuate over time, as you learnt all about my insides? As you started to scoop me dry. Do your lips remain the same or do they still have my stain? Did I stain you or did you just crush me apart for your own pleasure. You crushed my inner whites,  my thoughts deteriorated while I waited for you on the kitchen side. As my colours began to fade brown over time. it made me wonder if you were ever mine.