Breathe me in, my honey, your honey
and commit me to memory.
Mandarin peels, basil fingers,
starlit clementine in a bottle of flesh.
Cut into a blood orange and watch
how fast it gives in to decay
when already rotting from within.
YOU ARE READING
Blood Orange Periphery
PoetryMy suicide had been two years in the making when I decided not to follow through at the last minute. Over the past decade, I've written poems, books, short stories, fanfiction and hundreds of thousands of words, but nothing felt complete. This coll...
