You become it, being love, not loving and not hating; those opposites they do not attract. My love can’t retract it, you became overwhelmingly obviously wound by a love for peaches, though you knew my distemper, has not virility to abode in redress, of once a deliciously juicy laden net, culpable of retracing to not hating, my love for a once at peace: dramatically invisible; you’re a peach i am no more.