By Fia Quigley

in my eyes, you’re a fig.
a select fruit that is an inverted blossom;
you’re naturally introverted towards the world.
your delicate interior;
your bones are composed with trace amounts of adrenaline–
anyone who dares a dance with an addictive sprite
is bewitched by lovesick palpitations.
the fig
is molded from a craved yet deprived touch
and a honeyed clay
that i,
the pollinator,
desire in the deepest depths of my dreams.
your figure is that of a mournful teardrop,
you grieve for unreciprocated sweetness in life.
the stillborn aspirations of the world have not been kind to such a sensitive soul.
still,
my appetite cries in desperation for ONE single fig.
my mouth cannot shut up since your flesh grazed my lips
with the frail caress of infatuation.
the fig tree is an open canopy over the frail shell of my life.
you’ve mended a veil of anamored love
and draped the desperate fabric over my sunken eyes.
dear fig,
forgive me for my deserted morals.
for saints don’t yearn for you as much as i.
i want to plunder to your wounded heart
and nurture your vulnerable abrasions
with the warmth that protrudes from
the budding wildflowers that sprouted from
young love.
oh my fig,
please let me sink my teeth into you.

–

Fia Quigley is a seventeen year old poet from Upstate New York. She enjoys and appreciates beauty around her and writes poetry in her free time. After battling with depression, PTSD and anorexia, writing has been the only comfort she knows.