nothing rhymes with orange.
i imagine it is quite a lonely word, no other half to seek comfort in.
Nothing rhymes with orange,
No word perfectly follows it,
No word perfectly matches it.
No word perfectly flows alongside it.
It is not perfect.
The way the scent lingers on your hand,
You can still smell it hours later,
You can still sense it in the room,
You can still taste it on your tongue.
The way the skin bruises,
Rough, imperfect skin,
Destined to be ‘fixed’,
A bad layer to remove.
How the peel is never complete.
Always another string.
Another strand to pick out before it’s ‘ready’.
Another task to perform before you can enjoy it.
The way the segments are different,
How one can be sweet,
How one can sour,
How one can be left.
“Nothing rhymes with orange,
Nothing fits.” (Perhaps I do).
Imperfect, to be fixed.
Another task, another flaw,
Sweet, sour,
Acidic.
