Please Don't Bruise the Fruit

by Francesca West

Please don't 

bruise the fruit.

Rubbing up against us.

Pushing hard into our soft spots.

Picking us off the branch prematurely.

We are meant to ripen,

Free fall, land on our own. 

Chosen by hands that attract us

To want to be eaten completely.

You throw stones in the tree.

Play a game of targeting.

Leaving nothing nourishing 

left to be seen. 

I wouldn't even want you 

to pick the bugs off me!

Just let me be!

I'm free,

When you don't bruise the fruit.

When you let me choose. 

When will you let me choose? 

Nobody would choose

To appear so bruised.