Our Fruit Basket

by Simran Pandey

the weight of our fruits basket causes

me to lose balance because, well,

it’s going to be hard to remain stable if only

one arm is pulling the weight.

my beach dress tangles between my legs,

tripping me, leading me to fall towards the sharp

rocks

i reach for your hand and realize too late that

you’re not here anymore.

blissful i am not as i recount the picnic, yes the picnic

the one where the efflorescence of the flowers around us

kept us bright and happy as we threw bright red cherries

bright like the blood on my arms

at each other.

i went to the doctor the other day -

i told them i felt dizzy so they

audited my brain but only found thoughts of

you.

as the rocks cut deeper into my skin i remember the first few

nights, alone, where our past greeted me as a ghost

hauntingly

i utter your name in the garden of my mind:

the garden of sweet strawberry scented hair and lime

flavored nights and tomato-like blushes and blueberry-esque

eyes.

the thunder strikes and all of a sudden i can’t tell if my tears

are stinging my scars or if the world is mocking me because,

how could i forget that even the

sweetest peaches have

jagged and tough

pits.

Find this article and more in our issue one print release!