he didn’t peel my orange,
I let tears shed down my face,
I’m not supposed to be sad,
after all, it’s just an orange.

a sweet and sour fruit,
the color of a prison jumpsuit,
I think I need a parachute,
to rescue me into absolute.

I don’t notice anything else,
just the fact that he refused,
but I stop to think and realise,
that maybe I need to be defused.

all these problems climbing up,
rushing in from the *****,
when a sweet turns to sour,
and something snaps inside.

Why am I filled with smoke,
Why do I feel this way,
Why am I so dependent,
It’s just an orange anyway.

so I start slowly,
taking the skin off,
piece by piece it falls,
and it reveals something sweet.

suddenly I understand.
To peel someones orange,
means I have to peel mine first.

I wasn't just that band aid,
          that was  going to heal
   you with faint kisses.

And peel off useless after I'd
                      been there a while.

My intentions were to
          rejuvenate our blemished  
   emotions.

And yes there will scars,
        but we'll heal together.

Will you be my Valentines?
                                                                                                                 No.


Oh, okay.

You rip my heart out of my chest,
Pink ruffles and all,
And crumble it up.

You swish swish swish it into the trash,
You feel so powerful.

It lays there,
Bottom of the barrel,
Crumpled and beat black and blue.

The pink ruffles are now zig zag bright red.
It wheezes out in desperation.

I scramble to the bin,
Trying to scavenge the leftover pieces.

I pick through the trash,
I look ridiculous,
But I can fix this.

My fingers run over broken glass,
Paper, and even banana peels.

I find it,
The last remnants of my beating heart.

It’s still crumbled up,
But this can work.

I start from image.

I steam press it,
Whisper it sweet nothings,
And kiss it back to life.

It beats.
It beats,
It’s beating.

My heart is alive once more.

Will you be my Valentines?

Yes, heart, I will.

It takes a lifetime to know someone.
Knowing someone is like plucking the petals of a rose,
Only to realize there is more to the picture.

Everyday I learn more and more about you;
You are one of those novels I will keep reading on my own till the last word.

Even though my friend gave me a spoiler,
I don't care, I will wait for the words to spell out of your mouth, off the pages I mean.

But,
What if you are not the rose afterall?
.
‌what if you are like an onion,
whom I peel everytime trying to know you,
Only to realize my eyes are sobbing even more.

Squeeze gently like lemons and fruits
Sweet nectar juices produced

**** tongue close to core
Butterscotch like tapped sycamore

Perspiration seeps from peel
Porous citrus aromates near

Grown in sun among the wildflowers
Oh how I love her, even when she sours

Four months today. Since he became mine.

4 months of peeling each others layers.

Layers of love, layers of conflicts.

Some almost fell off, some were a challenge to even budge.

We fell apart, only to collide once again.

The hard collision brought the toughest layers with it.

And here we are.

4 months later.

Honest, bare and exposed.

Closer than ever before.

No matter how hard our fears tried to stop us,

we can't fight destiny.

Have you ever peeled an orange?
Felt the satisfaction as the smooth husk glides
Right off, falls away in a rush
Opening to the sweet flesh inside

Taking pleasure in the simple things
Those smooth and flawless actions
So why should flaying men be different?
Why the cruel infractions?

You say you scream from pain
But I hear the rejoicing
Hidden in your shrieks
As I flay the skin right off your face
Revealing the ****** smile
Concealed beneath your cheeks

Ah, the rush, the thrill
Peeling you like a fallen fruit
Elation takes me to new heights
As I joyfully flay your skin suit

My concentration becomes delight
As I open you up to new views
The rapturous beauty
Your muscles, tendons, bones, and sinews