The Laboring of Love and Lust (A poetic Couplet)

"Laboring Love"

The melon hath ripened.
She hath journeyed through time and maturity.
She inspires hope of new seed.
The fruit thereof awaits me.

My heart hath longed for this harvest.
Daily, I have caressed the garden.
My hands crave her firmness.
I have labored her into love.

Do I take her?
This fruit, will it be as the rest?
Shall I cut her off only to be unsatisfied?
Shall my chance be worth worthy of her sweetness lost?

My lips do crave her.
Left alone she would never open.
Her heart untouched,
The succulence thereof would fade unknown.

It is I who tended to her with love.
My love birthed strong roots for her growth.
She awaits me.
She knows my hand is upon her.

She is sweet.
The fruit thereof shall be my last.
I know each part of her.
I bury her seed in satisfaction.

"Laboring Lust"

The laborer hath been found wanting.
The garden has become bare in fruit.
Daily he tends to me.
I am his last love.

I have seasoned with much splendor.
He is pleased with my firmness.
He longs to partake of me.
He cares for me in vain.

He tends only to my appearance.
He neglects my heart.
His love hath bowed to lust.
He knows I am in my prime.

I long that I had some poison within me,
That I might turn him away.
Yet my beauty is secure.
I was prepared for sweetness

He acts as though I wait for him.
I wait for my death!
I would rather my heart remain unknown,
Than for him to partake of it.

His hand is upon me.
He uncovers the very depth of me.
Without my will,
Without my love.