Thing about it is...
I felt young, vibrant, wistful
When I was around you...

Now that you’re gone...
I feel my age...
The old in my skin...
Would take me a week to count my greys
Wrinkles are more apparent
And I hate looking into the mirror
At the person that lost you...

You were on my skin and was easy to
Wash off...
Now
You’re
In My Bones
Embedded
Forever
Aging me
Rapidly

I wonder if her fake accounts will give me a true account of who she really is...

So many times...
In many different ways...
The tree gave up its fruit...
To be picked by us...
Shiny...brilliant
Ripe...
Ready to be eaten...
Even if forbidden...
It grew tired of waiting...
Those trees bear no fruit now...
And how you used to beg the moon...
Praying to it...
To deliver to you...
It did...
Gave you the answer right in front of you
Sent a comet...
With a beautiful tail...
And once again you let it out of sight...
Knowing it would come back...
Just not knowing when...

Walk barefoot in the orchard...
In the midday light...
Rotting. Waiting. So much fruit.
For you.
And you did nothing

All this life has taught you
So many lessons
And it’s done giving them to you...
Take what’s on the ground
&
Make a pie...