My mother tells me about all the ways I peel fruit wrong.
‘It’s breaking’ she says, pointing to the cracks and fissures where juice is seeping from between my fingers. ‘If you hold it between your palms too tightly, you’ll crush it.’
I wish she’d told me sooner because when you left I could not fathom the reason. And then I saw drips on the carpet. The leakage of your heart. And I knew that, like fruit, I had held onto you too hard and you’d fractured under the pressure.
(Source: calitoti)


