CLEMENTINES

It is one of those times when the darkness is blinding,

And light seems to have drifted away from reality.

It’s late and as the majestic moonlight hits my very core,

All I could think of are clementines.

The night is candid and heartbreaking.

My heart was stabbed and was ravished by an anonymous pain.

It was sour and it brushed a lingering acrimony through my veins.

It was sour.

Like clementines.

Sleep is elusive, sleep is untamed.

The quilt was robbed of its usual comfort.

This time it feels coarse and jagged.

Like clementines.

No stars are to be found wandering in the midnight sky.

Neither are people roaming around the busy streets.

I sensed a cold rush of blood devouring my memory.

I felt little.

Like clementines.

My eyes needed to see something other than pitch black.

They needed to copulate with the regal façade of affection.

Everything transformed into an indistinguishable color.

Orange.

Like clementines.

We were clementines.

Or at least we used to be.

Blending in and ruining the curves.

Until we have collapsed the cuff holding us together.

We broke free.

We have escaped in the rotting shambles of conformity.

We are not clementines after all.

And now, everything seems futile.