The Unbitten Fruit

The grass is always greener on the other side.

Maybe because it is the reflection of your ivory-green pupils,

No longer gazing towards my direction,

While my soiled brown eyes become clearer,

As each drop of blue water streams down my face,

One by one,

Creating drenching rain puddles,

Until I drown in its rushing rivers.

I remember that season,

When both our faces basked in the rays of sunshine,

Soaking in the glorious rays,

Feeling that comfortable, loving warmth

From the very tips of our toes,

To the suffocating air above our heads,

Our heartbeats echoing that summer rhythm.

We grew under that magnificent light, 

You always being that sturdy, rough to the outside touch, tree,

Patient as I desperately tried to blossom,

To be that beautiful, delicate flower

That grabbed the eyes of those around me,

Enjoying the slight fingertip touch of others

As they basked in my vibrant colors.

Not realizing how much my rosy-red petals,

Needed the complementary green.

I forgot about the one,

Who sacrificed his leaves,

To stop the storm from tearing me from my roots,

To give me that cooling, refreshing shade,

When that brilliant sun was cynically trying to scorch

That little vulnerable bud.

Our branches start to slowly split apart, 

With us not noticing the gradual increasing distance,

As we become consumed with our own growth and survival.

Soon we are spectacles of change in color,

A transformation of standard beauty.

I slowly start to lose sight of your ivory green, and rosy, speckled face,

And the smell of your alluring aroma.

It is not until the heavy winds come,

Frantically shaking me to the brink of breaking,

Snapping me back into the harsh reality of the world around me.

We are on opposite directions now, my sweet blossom,

You are West and I am the East.

Despite how much you push the shaking compass hand

To the big, faded "E", 

It will quickly spring back to the undeniable truth.

More days have slowly and endlessly rolled by,

And it is harvesting time,

With you as plump off life as ever.

And I regret not noticing it earlier,

That other beautiful plant growing beside you,

And gave you the same care that you have done for me.

I selfishly used your nutrients like the weed I am.

But even so, I want to be the one to pluck you from your height,

Greedily devour all of your delicacies,

Letting your sweet, sticky juice run down my face,

As a spectacle for all to see that

I am the one who dared took the first bite.

But I realize the seasons have ended,

I must reap what I have sowed.

All I can do is hope that one day

I too will ripen into an eye-sore to you,

Free from my bruising blemishes,

Free from the pests around me.

My head is no longer in the clouds.

I'm falling into an unknown abyss,

And I just pray that another hand will catch me.