Grapefruit

Perfect weather reeks of nostalgia;

72 degrees and reminiscence.

On days like these

I think about being a kid,

And the line between missing my family

And longing to be part of yours

Is a blur.

You feel the way

Grapefruit covered in sugar

Tastes,

And like all the other things from my childhood

So bittersweet that they hurt.

I will never admit to you

That I am a little girl

Playing make-believe

In a twenty-something-year-old body.

Or that I keep you around to replay

What happened when I was five.

It’s better if I never confess that

You make me feel like a child

In all the good ways,

And all the bad ways.

It’s better if I never speak of my parents,

Or why I am who I am,

Or how you remind me of my mortality

And I wish we had more days left to get it right.

I’m afraid of the last time

That we won’t know is the last time

And having to search for you in perfect weather.

In faded memories

I wonder if you will still feel the way

Grapefruit covered in sugar

Tastes,

And like all of the apologies I never got

And probably never will.