Bitter Fruit

standing on the razor blade
of indecision
she was afraid to move
forward. the past
taught her that love was
a bitter piece of fruit
that grew in a tree
up out of her reach.
one step forward to grab
what she could see,
not feel
could break her or just break
her heart
and the memory
of the pain of love, the
pain she felt before when she
dared to love
kept her balancing
on the razor edge
of indecision
where the only possibility
was that she would
cut her own self
bear the fruit of her
own misery

Peace & Love,
Rosalind