Our Orchard
We chased each other between rows of plum trees. Leafy boughs drooped with blossoms casting shadows in our tracks.
We kissed when we caught up. I sank into your embrace wishing you would never let go.
But you did. A high school classmate was more clever than I. Grabbed your vulnerability. Clawed at your masculinity. You found her sexy.
I’ve returned. Standing across the street from a playground where our orchard used to be. The fruit trees were gone except for one.
Boys played rough ball games. One on a bench looked like you.
Love no longer filled that space.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction. Her recent work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories and espresso stories.
Please support the site by purchasing one of my books on Amazon. Check out Quitting The Grave, a murder mystery set on the Oregon Trail. Plus, don't forget my other books: They Both Loved Vonnegut, Ahab's Adventures in Wonderland, and Picasso Painted Dinosaurs.