WOUNDED FRUIT

I see a change
in the eyes,
firmer brow,
no longer the softness
I've come to know,

harder still,
the words no longer heal,
abrasive beneath the skin,
leaving thoughts looming
like grey clouds,

fingers slowly slipping
from the palm of
reconciliation,
two halves, parted,
to wounded fruit...

Both of us knowing,
we can only find
common ground
under heavy rain.