//------------------------------//
// The Apples in Stereo 
// Story: found object 
// by alafoel 
//------------------------------//

the salt in the air
has bore through my sense
left its stain of rust
and disappeared
i no longer taste it on my tongue

the air is clean
my thoughts are not
you
standing there
brandishing your wings!
the words i never wanted to use:
chiseled, rippling, glistening, hot
how can i not?
this hole through the side of my skull
where restraint and logic once lied
this plug unplugged,
letting out, now, a tedium of dust

i see you
and
and feel you
still on my body
that hoof slung around my back
though it has since moved
is still right there, i can feel it
proudly brandishing the patch you left

the fairies dance in gardens as you walk by
the clouds swirl themselves into your dreams
the floor beneath me
is furnished
is hardened
with steel that once weighed down on me
that hung overhead
but now only steadies my legs
that lets me stand here
in front of you
that lets me stand here
and speak

for the first time in my life i am speaking clearly