Hearts hang like fruit
weighted on branches
with sunlight whispered lips
fondling the surface they ripen
this is what we hold
flawless when in love
the friendship that has grown
the one who knows our needs
who we are in mind, the physical
our strengths admired
our weaknesses forgiven

What happens if then the
wrong tree was chosen
ours not by choice to inflict
a rancid taste into their mouths
they can elect to discard
and we withdraw into ourselves
in the end not the preferred held
in hand, our flesh will rot like fallen fruit
bruised, we lie and wither

©JMTacken 6.6.2014

I wish I could say all of me has returned, but I think I’m only an eighth at this point.

Photo Credit http://www.deviantart.com

47 thoughts on “Hearts

  1. Jenny, welcome back. I think your poem is beautiful. Though I can’t help looking at it and wish you would economize on the language which would slow it down. I will send you and exmple of what I mean. >KB

  2. I’m not sure what KA means in the comment as well, but it’s interesting and helpful to get feedback like this. I think the poem is absolutely beautiful and being an eight back is better than not being back at all 😉 Sending you hugs and love xxx

  3. Hi Jen good to see you writing again. I get the impression from this that there is a long way to go for you, that there are many issues to be overcome and I pray not too much ‘withers’ before another eighth appears.

  4. The poem is not complete. With nurturing the tree will grow strong. The fruit will become sweet. Some pruning and hugging… but I am a tree hugger. 😉

    a mumsy hugger also.


  5. nice use of the extended metaphor of the fruit…
    the not being chosen….withdrawing into ourselves is particularly
    emotional point for me…

    glad you are writing your way through it jenny

  6. Oh, how unfair to have rancid fruit instead of delicious sweet fruit. I am sorry for the bitter taste left in your mouth and in your heart, Jen! Always amazed at the way you spill your guts out and still manage to make it sound beautiful, my dear one! Hugs, Robin

  7. Playing catch up on my reading. I love the opening stanza – those heavy fruit. I sense the pain of the second one – the images are so powerful. Hope life has improved.

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