Fruits

“Who’s seen Jezebel?

Will the mountain last as long as I can wait

Wait like the dawn

How it aches to meet the day”

- Iron and Wine, Jezebel

Once I yearned for love

Perfect as the cogs behind the bleached white face

Of a German watch,

Conditional on every breath as perfect as the next.

Sinless

Pure

Untouched,

A caricature of my own immaturity.

Seeing that I was chasing ghosts,

I raged

And burnt the temple down.

And now, brick by brick,

I build it back up,

Burying our pasts behind an orchard’s walls

And see ourselves reflected in the fruits that bloom,

And savour the acquired taste

Of the things we have become.

Worm’s meat upon lips

The sins of our past,

And painted fingers hide

The dirt beneath our nails.