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Bruised Fruit

Updated on July 2, 2013

To herself she is
a bruised fruit,
moulding on the side,
passing through the stages
of corrosion and decay.

A spare fruit,
spoiling in the calm,
sitting on the lips
of thankless oblivion.

A ruined fruit,
rotting with the times,
Awaiting validation
as an item of consumption.

A wasted fruit,
aging past its use
withering in the light
of unrequited love.

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    • myownworld profile image

      myownworld 7 years ago from uk

      I love your poems....they really have such an impact on one! this one conveyed a sense of despondency (like 'wasted' time) so well. thank you for sharing with us.

    • Don W profile image
      Author

      Don W 7 years ago

      Thanks myownworld. I don't know why but I find my poems always veer towards the melancholy. Maybe I should set myself the challenge of writing a 'happy' poem. Stretch myself a bit lol. Thanks for your comment.

    • Dolores Monet profile image

      Dolores Monet 7 years ago from East Coast, United States

      Hey, that's me! Sorry, only kidding. It's very sad and a great comment on how we view older women.

    • Don W profile image
      Author

      Don W 7 years ago

      Thanks Dolores. It is sad, even moreso when a woman feels this of herself.

    • profile image

      Beth37 3 years ago

      Um, that was awesome. I had not even hoped it would be impressive, but it really was.

    • Don W profile image
      Author

      Don W 3 years ago

      Thanks Beth. Women are beautiful. It amazes me when you think you are not.

    • profile image

      Beth37 3 years ago

      We have issues. :)

    • Akriti Mattu profile image

      Akriti Mattu 2 years ago from Shimla, India

      You're a lovely poet :-)

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