fruit
fruit
we sway in the wind
but i grasp the air
in hopes it can sweep me from this branch
this branch-
preserving the purity of my skin-
is forced to let me fall
i rip from the loosening grip of my cluster
a wound on my side-
evidence of a new chance-
gifted by violent departure
i feel the air on my palms
i smash into the ground
mud covers my face.
i gaze up to the branch-
my past shimmers in the glaring sun.
a blue bird flies overhead
her beauty exerts itself effortlessly over my grime.
she parades her freedom
as the mud hardens under the kiln of the sun
i signal to the bird.
recognizing my flare, she glides to my side
and picks me apart
as i lay here-
opened up to this beast-
i listen to her speak
her tongue mumbles a foreign language
one that doesnt wish things away
a language learned from experiences
observed in her fulfilled juvenility
when all that is left
is the muddy skin on my back,
i sink into the earth
decaying for more time than i ever spent on a branch
why would i ever
excuse myself from youth to preserve my expiration?
i forfeit my experience then,
to gain a lonely breath here
Copyright © aiden poe | Year Posted 2025
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