I wrote you once
                 twice
                thrice

      But no more
              for you
        will I again

I loved you once
                 twice
          and thrice

But not anymore
              for you
            this time

I still sigh at the smell of citrus.
How could I not?
It was always you and that crate of oranges,
ambling towards the market
and me.
The flowers turn to you
instead of the sun when they pass.
I figure they don't know the difference.
I keep swearing to gods I stopped believing in.
Cyrus,
I've got oleander in my eyes
and my teeth
and my everything.
We didn't mean to water it so well,
But how could we not?
I keep seeing this phantasm
where I'm peeling oranges in the kitchen.
It smells like weathering wood and you.
The window is open
while you smile at me through it,
one hand placed gently on the windowsill.
My soul be ******.
You look like magic.
I watch you hand me an orange,
gently,
tenderly.
I don't remember taking that step forward.
I suppose it's always like that with you.
Cyrus,
they say that oranges are for good fortune.
How could they not?

The moment when the ticking of a clock becomes your only company
The time you spend alone becomes torment instead of tranquility
The friends you love are let down by your loss of will
For a chance to be how you once were you'd ****
You're looking up to everyone you know
Now you're the cause of your own woe
You threw your faith in the water
You've been drowning for what seems like forever
Keep telling yourself you haven't hit rock bottom
You fell hard but you're not broken

Oranges you make my hands sticky.

You make my knife sticky.

my clothes, my mouth, everything sticky.

i wonder if it is worth it just to be healthy.

i wonder if it is worth it to eat the tasty insides.

i wonder about the worth in anything when i eat you oh orange you.

You remind me of outcome - effort = worth and how i hate that about you.

Don't make me think, don't make me sad and angsty.

For God's sake your supposed to just be a fruit.

-
-
-
And perhaps every love story is the same story
Perhaps we've all just conditioned ourselves to tell it differently
In ways that make the most sense to us.

Grapefruit: abomination!
Such a hybrid shan't exist!
So within my machination
This strange pink fruit I protest

But if it seems I cannot win it
I will find rest within.
Yes, the peace of all my oranges,
My fruit goes without a sin

He insisted we go down
To a place near the river
He was briefly obsessed with the boats
And explained he didn't have anywhere to stay that night.

All these constant changes of subject,
And weird self-obsessions,
Then he calls ME half crazy,
As if that would make his company pleasant.

Why does he keep checking the origin
Of my tea
And of my oranges.
He's a loveless, non-committal fool.
Just when you think
He understands what you're saying,
He says something stupid.
And I don't say anything,
Just let the river do the talking.
He's delusional about our relationship.

And he wants to come on vacation with me
And he doesn't seem to care to where,
And he thinks somehow I'd trust him,
And he makes lascivious comments about my body.  

Jesus, how did sailing come into this?
Is he some evangelical nut?
Oh man, he is going on about this.
Sailing, and garbage and flowers and seaweed.
He clearly cannot maintain a train of thought.

I look at my watch,
I take out my mirror,
I practice my 'yeah, sure, I'm interested face.'

And again he's off again about coming on my vacation,
And again he doesn't care where to,
And again he thinks himself trustworthy
And again, with the unwelcomed comments about my body.

the sun sizzles
on that red car
wrinkled skin sits and
ages as that motor
howls on
waiting for a go.
a mercedes, maybe
or perhaps, a honda.
either way
this is why I hate Florida