I Am a Rotten Fruit

So appealing at first glance
You’re admiring my supple pink skin
Too distracted by sweetness to notice
The quiet alcoholic tang of my fermentation
But halfway through
The wrongness becomes apparent
The bruised flesh and spotted decay
Tasting of clotted earth scorched in the sun
And the mash of soft apples underfoot
Spit me out and discard
Another boy will pick me up soon
Toss me from hand to hand
It’s tough to spot a rotten fruit


4 thoughts on “I Am a Rotten Fruit

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