Exteriors Poem by grace mariner

She is a perfect peach.
Soft and round, her rotting inside only revealed in
her self destruction.
Our crutches turn against us, defiling our best efforts
to endure that which beguiles us most.
Cruel, cruel world of haphazard circumstance!
You give us everything but no eyes to see it,
no ears to hear it.
But insurmountable pain and a heart and an ego
chained and bound,
a captive audience.
And so this peach denies herself in a mea culpa
frenzy, punishing the innocent as the righteous do best.
But this fruit was picked by one with a perfectly
imperfect heart.
He could see the beauty in her lush softness, beyond
that blushed roundness, to its very core.
And with his long, slender fingers, he plucked away
the horror of its parasite damaged center.
He reveled in her beauty, her green eyes, her softness,
her musky heat.
He shared his damage, joining his peach in her pain
and opening her ears to hear, her eyes to see.
What a gift you gave me my dearest one!
No words of gratitude exist to make you know the
depth of my servitude to you.
You existed as if in a dream now but your words still
invade my memory, your kindness, my heart.
I am forever changed.
No longer that girl, she is my past life,
I am my present.
And as for happy endings, there can be none happier!
Even as I go on without you in the natural, you have
left your mark on me in the supernatural.
And so, I carry you with me wherever I go.