Bittersweet - poem

I remembered the summer of 1997

where we laid by the tree sprawled

under the sun.


I was awakened by your kiss, like butterflies

caressing my cheeks, my lips.

It was the perfect season for mango's,

you sliced and fed me, it melted on the

tip of my tongue—


I was stimulated, I craved more.

Another bite, the juicy sweet taste

whetted my appetite.


Driven to addiction, a pleasure I could not

deny, a tingling sensation took hold of me.
This fruity delight, we soaked in sugar and spice,
fresh from the mango tree.


Body and soul, you belonged to me and I to you,

for I had loved truly, and thought you had too.

I was the seed and you were the Earth, entwined,

we grew—


but summer departed and so had you.

Seasons have passed and my tree is now dead.

I rot inside, like the decayed mangoes in the harsh

winter 's storm.


In the rainfall, passion fizzles and withers. I lay

defeated by nausea, my cravings cease and I shiver,

reality hits me hard.


Another four seasons and I recollect,
this sweet mango was not for me, it belonged

to someone else—

Spring dawns as my garden beams of colour.

Wisdom tells me…there is a better fruit out there

for me.

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