The way your teeth
bite into ginger
and it bites back
everytime.
The way you salt
a bitter grapefruit
begging it
might taste fine.
The way her tiger’s fur
feels smooth
but her teeth
feel that they’ll kill.
And the way
you watched her leave
knowing that
she’s watching still.
the fragrance writer 
Ah, grapefruit — a favourite of mine. It greets the morning with sunrise in its skin, a shimmer of pink, gold, and a hint of flame. One must meet its tang with patience; the first taste startles, then softens, offering a tender reminder that not all sweetness comes easily. Yet for all its boldness, grapefruit remains the life of the breakfast table — bright, refreshing, and endlessly alive with promise.
And why not? I can well imagine those tiger’s eyes will always be watching you.
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