grapefruit

it happens every Summer.

it’s etched into bark of evergreens & it surges like lifeblood in Earth’s arteries as the hot haze hums it. it’s more addictive
than breathing.

we fall asleep to find ourselves sitting together on the edge of October in some sepia afternoon, where the leaves of citrus trees shrivel in the heat. the sky blossoms in dysmorphic circles like blood oranges opened, belly-up to us all; the Sun’s electrifying urgency infused into passing clouds.

there is fruit at the feet of trees, scattered like ripe hugs privately swelling between blades of withering grass. our little fists are greedy, and we plunge our fingernails into the vermillion rind, laughing at the Sun’s attempts to attack us with spears of screeching light. it’s just a whisper. neither of us listen.

star-white blossoms shake themselves loose and jump from woody limbs, eyes wide, wanting to feel the wind in their hair more than anything. they surrender one by one and shower us like wedding rice, but it’s less than a rumour of innocence; just a rippling zephyr. we are merciless, You and I. our fingers drown in ichor, drooling from fruity flesh. we would murder the cinnabar sun if we could.

and yet, Your hair is a bouncing promise of tomorrow, dyed like fiery cinnamon and we laugh because we’re both here now. we’re breathing the same skies. we’re both human, sprawled on grass beneath our yellowing destiny. we take sour sips from life’s lush lips, and watch our hearts pulsate under the peel. I say I’ll protect you from the billowing future, that I’ll stem the flow of time, forever. You’ll always be my girl, for as long as grapes are grapes, You always say.

so we sit under orchard trees & flirt with the taste of bursting sour segments, dry grass dying between our toes. we suck and spit the starry seeds, until we are left with nothing but the lumpy peel of the tenth calendar month
and puddles of sunlight which dapple our hands like spots of stickiness.












xx