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I tread lightly when I talk about him.

When a knife slices an apple,
it makes a very clean cut.
And there’s exactly two things
you can clearly hear.
The sound of the blade
against the core of the fruit.
Fleshy, swift, gliding smooth.
Cutting deep.
And the sound of the blade
against the wooden board.
Stiff and quick.
The aftermath.

That’s how it felt with him.
That’s how I describe the past
3.5 months.

But in reality, it was a lot more stained and tangled.

Because after you cut an apple,
its taste is ultimately succulent.

But breaking up with someone is raw.



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sha_mc said...
Apr. 30 at 8:50 am
Love this, I have the same thing going on with even the same time frame! Check out my poems, I think you might like them :)
 
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