How does it taste now, LK?
The sweetness of the fruit gone.
The ripe flavor of passion two years ago, so short-lived, now rotted and festering, burning your insides.
Your existence an epic disaster.
Remanded to a life of settling for a man you didn’t really want.
Incarcerated in the prison you created for yourself, as you watch the one you really love avoid your eyes every day.
Do you feel it?
Do you feel the hatred he has for you now?
Do you see the arid crevices in your skin deepening as your mediocre face shrivels and sags?
He looks at you now and sees nothing but a papery husk.
He does not eat pineapple anymore.
So, how does it taste now?
Quite bitter, I’m sure.