Clementines sitting on kitchen counters
while coffee brews silently in it's own world
and lemons fill the garbage disposal to cover up
last night's poor choices in men and take out,
remind me of everything I could not say to you.
Strawberries starting to mildew on the desk
call out to Poetry asking when the hell she's
coming home and how much longer it will take
to bring artistry back to this shriveled planet.
Apple pie baking as pears simmer on the stove
for that recipe you nicknamed "Autumn's Regret"
fill the air with an aroma not far off from your
perfume while blackberries rest atop freshly
whipped cream for tea time with your best friend
whisper hellos meant only for smiles of joy.
Sometimes fruit just has a way of reminding you
how broken you once were, but shopping in the
produce aisle lets the rest of the world know that
you are still capable of functioning in society.
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