Orange Peel
Stunted fingernails scrape back
the first slither of orange skin,
bounding a torrent of zest to spurt
into the royal keyhole of my soul,
stinging, watering - heartbreaking.
Reluctant, I remove the fruit’s shell
longing for a worthy distant aim
to splash upon an unwary significant,
instead, my citrus emotion’s reflected,
discarded, rejected - abandoned.
Eyes smarting – juice offends a single soul.
Pith concealed – surplus heart needs healing.
Copyright © Nicola Steel | Year Posted 2006
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