bittersweet sixteen

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. 

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.

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