If

after all I have endured

and have not learnt

how to tell you

I love you

I would have wasted

my life

the dark purple plum whose tree

I grew from a seed

and now hold in my hand

I would give to you

if I dared

before it rots

this is not a poem

until it is given away

not a life

until it is eaten

flooding our mouths with sweetness

and stain your chin

and the white cotton shirt you wear

in this summer heat