Pulp

By Sophie Cooney

my heartbreak hangs heavy inside of me

like an overripe fruit on a stringy bough

I still feel the weight there when I breathe

as though I would burst at the seams

and spill over if only I would allow.

I am half a person, half past my best flesh,

with my insides turning to stone

rotten juice straining against the thresh

of a meat suit not fitted for me

or for any one person who is so alone.

if I were to clasp my hands and squeeze

I’d turn to pulp, to mush, with ease.

my fingers would pierce through my skin with a pinch

and I would bleed dry before I could flinch.

I am a University of Strathclyde graduate who, since leaving, has discovered a love for poetry that I wish I’d had during my time there- it would have made the coursework easier! This was written during a particularly difficult emotional time, and it helped to get some of the negative feelings out and onto paper.

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