When it ended,
when you pulled the pit out of me,
I moved into our metaphor.
I leapt across state lines
straight into the belly of an orchard state.
Sure, I fumbled at farmer’s markets
and still breathe heavy in the produce aisle,
but I put your cue into other poems.
I made it mine.
Do you hear me?
All that wanting,

all that aching,

all that capacity for love:
it never belonged to you in the first place.

RECLAIMING THE PEACH by Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)

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