stale

What to do with the orange
You’ve left so long on your desk
For weeks it looked so fresh
I almost wanted to take it
And peal into the juicy
Softness

I’d eat away its loneliness
If it wasn’t for propriety
Now the skin a molted brown
Hardness

Sweetness sucked out
There’s something about the neglect
That makes me want to shake things
Want to go into your office
And stroke it, poor thing
If it wasn’t for propriety

It’s not like I haven’t been leaving papers
Out to organize for months now.

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