| i bite the watermelon slice you cut me this morning for breakfast. juice dribbles on the edge of my plate, a crack is forming where i dropped it last tuesday. i taste the sweet crunch and chew as i chew and swallow it all down. sugar is the best medicine, they say. well— i say it is sweet but only on the tip of your tongue and then it fades away like the juice on my plate evaporates into the air. and then i taste the bitterness of pain, agony, the hard rind because they say i am not the same as you and you are not the same as me and we lie together on the street in silence and that is an unfair fight— i have a house and you have a house but your house is on fire but apparently who cares because we both have houses, right? and i can breathe but he can’t because we have different watermelon rinds. i eat the watermelon, and i sit in silence for 8mins46seconds and it is not enough. |
