Love Your Poem, Sally Omar.
you are not red
your lips, tongue, blood, are,
and I bet, not [“bred” = missprint, don’t remember word], is,
a passion to just bite
the apple, red,
the juices dripping:
there, now, to be dried (kissed)
and say, hello!
just thought I espied a safe space;
saw, as well, two semetrical
petal blobs situated, and
arranged as [wo] cheeks, as [yu] kiss. = [ ] misprints / forgot words
truely, did the two bits of poem
oust, sound; spit out instead of [“flu,” = misprint/ forgot the word]
as well as this third one to you