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shelly May 2020
She held my hand with a vice grip
Fingers interlaced with mine
As we walked through the ivy-covered gates of the garden
We were both seeking something
Stone walls stood firm and tall against the sky
Surrounding the stunning grove of trees before me
Trapping the sweet scent of flowers within
It seemed like every surface
From the rose petals to the rocks in the stream
Glowed golden beneath the light of the sun directly overhead
The warmth wrapped around me like my favorite wool coat

I looked at the trees with emerald leaves
And marvelled at the fruit that they bore
Each one was a different color
Countless hues and shades
Some of which my eyes had never seen
Each with unique markings
I couldn’t help but smile to match the beaming face
Of the beautiful woman in sheer robes that approached us
“Welcome,” she said, “to our garden
These trees are gifts from God to his children
Go, search the trees together
For if you find two fruits that are exactly the same
You two are meant to change each other’s lives forever
Share your fruits, eat them together
So you can spend your lives in tandem”

So my companion and I got to searching
We walked along the soft grass with bare feet
Hand in hand
Longing for a match
I knew she was meant to change my life
She had already saved me once
Hours flew by us
The sun never leaving her post
As we went through the whole garden
With a fine-toothed comb
Finally, finally
We found our twins

We each held one in our hands
Turning them over
Double and triple checking the cream-colored freckles
That stood stark against their deep azure surfaces
They were perfectly identical
I pressed the velvety skin to my nose
And breathed in its sweet candy scent
The aroma made my head swim
This was it

I eagerly bit into it
Letting its juice fill my mouth and coat my tongue
It was sweet
Too sweet
Then horribly, repulsively bitter
My body heaved and I spit it out onto the grass
Nose crumpled and gagging
Disgusted
The inside
Was black and sickly brown
Dripping like a sick child’s nose
The fruit was rotting at its core

I still cannot get that taste off my tongue
i wrote this at a writers retreat a while ago c:

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