Oh, if I wrote my poetry on paper there would be a whole wastepaper basket full of balled up failed attempts at this prompt in the corner of my room. I tried several different shades of the word's meaning, in several different contexts. In the end I admitted near-defeat. I needed to move on, so this is what I wrote:
Desire
Famished I pluck you
Peach sun-ripened skin swelling
Dew beaded on fruit.
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