I am a bruised peach.
Creased with brown pushed-in places,
almost unbearably juicy
and pink like clouds in a summer storm.
It’s been years since I felt
clean and and fuzzy.
At heart, I wonder if there’s more
than a dark stone.
I am a bruised peach.
Creased with brown pushed-in places,
almost unbearably juicy
and pink like clouds in a summer storm.
It’s been years since I felt
clean and and fuzzy.
At heart, I wonder if there’s more
than a dark stone.