The mellow, warm pop of tangerine, the sweet hints of aftertaste that
lingers on your tongue after a while.
Summer or spring, I could share some with you, time too, and I
think I could decorate with its white veins.
Seasons change and the bruises swell pretty pinkishly-purple on plucked plums.
I could name a few feelings that aren't made to be felt on your own.
I know this too well because as I indulge in things I love to do, more than once,
I found myself turning around
just to find no one to share my overflowing happiness with.
Peeling a plump tangerine for just me is one, sliding down with a shopping cart
on the detergent aisle alone, too. Making foods that gets stale and finding it untouched, or just
how quietly my vibrant flowers grow until their blooms are spent, the greens turn brown.
Sugar mango, watermelon, sweet things as cherries as it grows.
Sweet things like friends I share the goodness of life with, whom I miss
and I miss not having all the good things to myself.
I created small chunks of sunshines alone, they're very tiny chunks but
each potent and cared with so much love.
So much love I'd never known I could give.
I'm having fun all alone in my own time, but God knows
how much I'd like to be able to create this peace with you instead, my friend.
