I would draw this better but Im too lazy, maybe i'll do a better version some time in the future
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today, I peel an orange for myself. I thought about you while peeling it. I wish I could share it was you. it was too much for me to finish on my own.
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Orange Poem, Floor 3 Writing Room
Oranges are nice
Oranges are soft
Oranges are frail
When you look at me, I feel like one
Your fingernail digs into my cheek
Peel an orange open...
Isabeau: Orange juice comes out!
Bonnie: I die.
Mirabelle: Blood oranges...? Something with that...
> It gets very a-peel-ing!
> Is it nice and sweet?
> Blood on your hands!
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ORANGE
I'll peel an orange for the both of us,
Split it into, like you do my heart.
I'll but on a brave face as the citrus floods the air,
Hoping that you appreciate how I peel it delicately.
If you leave,
I'll paint the walls with orange,
To remind me of the times we spent together,
Sitting in the orange sun,
With the tangerine hues dancing on our skin,
Peeling an orange for the both of us.
If you stay,
I'll bring you half an orange every day,
I'll deliver it with my citrus hands,
Having already consumed the other half,
Like you consume the half of me you are.
If you wait,
I'll go out and buy all the crates of oranges in the world,
Just so we can split them.
I'm not even sure if I like oranges,
Or if I just like how your face lights up when I peel them so neatly, so precisely.
Just for you.
- OM
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You peel my orange
I peel yours
You don't need me to
I don't need you to
But you do
And I do
You stand next to the trash
I stand over the island
You get the juice all over your hand
I forget the orange is yours and use my teeth
You peel mine in half
I give you yours whole
You eat yours very fast
I eat mine slower
You don't need me
I don’t need you
But you love me
And I love you
And you, as my little brother
And me, as your older sister
We love each other.
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Broke: saying 'I love being a woman' at the start of Would That I
Woke: saying 'I love you, I'm glad I exist' before the crescendo of Like Real People Do
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i only started understanding all of the orange poems after i figured out that my lover's favorite flavor is orange
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the inner child.
that small child you once were with bright eyes and a laugh that could heal the world. they’re not gone, even on the days when it feels like you haven’t seen them in an eternity. in your heart they live on the playground. that playground is filled with all the kids whose names you cannot remember anymore. their laughs are all that can be heard against the soft buzz of sunshine and eternal childlike joy.
- Sandygorange
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Orange Season Again
Two years ago I picked an orange from the fridge and I brought it to your room.
You were in bed, and in pain you only see present in old age.
Yet when you saw my orange,
You knew I needed you to peel it for me.
You knew I needed to know that you were still capable of peeling it.
And you couldn’t.
I get it mom, your body, it hurt too much.
You tried and I watched you try.
I had to peel it. And so I did.
I gave half to you. Piece by piece, hand feeding you.
Today, as the cool of November creeps in,
I see the quality oranges in stores, the ones you said had the best flavor.
Mom, I haven’t had an orange since.
I cannot peel one again,
And there is no one to peel it for me.
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