I tread lightly when I talk about him.

When a knife slices an apple,
it makes a very clean cut.
And there are exactly two things
you can clearly hear.
The sound of the blade
against the core of the fruit.
Fleshy, swift, gliding smoothly.
Cutting deep.
And the sound of the blade
against the wooden board.
Stiff and quick.
The aftermath.

That’s how it felt with him.
That’s how I describe the past
3.5 months.

But in reality, it was a lot more stained
and tangled.

Because after you cut an apple,
its taste is ultimately succulent.

But breaking up with someone is raw.