Love Letter From An Orange That I Ate Three Days Ago (1084 words)

Dear Woman Whom I’ll Never Fully Know, 

I almost feel as though I should be writing this as a “missed connection” on craigslist. Who’s to say if our encounter incited a similar reaction in your heart soul as it did mine, I doubt I will ever know. Yet here I am, a fractioned entity, taking responsibility for its feelings. I write to you from a place of indescribable darkness, I don’t even know if this is legible it’s so dark. I have nothing but my ability to dream. And this pencil. I can only dream that you dream of me, too.

There are so many things I noticed about you in such a fleeting meeting. The right half of your bottom lip is chubbier than the left half. I’ve enjoyed imagining what sort of occurrence could have possibly left such a charming and subtle scar. Did you fall from a high distance as a child? I can imagine you sitting atop the tallest playground structure, your thick and tangled hair blowing in the wind and you have the brief and immature thought that you are in fact, the long lost cousin of Pocahontas. 

You attempt to whip your mop around to the other side of your head (just like she does in the movie) absolutely certain that all of the other children are watching you -transfixed by your undeveloped beauty- when you completely misjudge your ability to keep balance and you tumble face first, into the sandbox below. You bite right through that right half of your lip and it takes weeks for it to properly heal because you, like all other children that are alive, are incapable of leaving a scab unpicked. What a nasty little habit that is. So disgusting. Truly. Nasty creatures. 

But anyway, these are just the types of things I have time to daydream about, now, in this segmented situation that I’m in. 

I noticed another thing about you, my odd and dismantling woman. There is one tooth in your mouth that is very snaggled. The others, mildly snaggled. I might be labelled as a martyr for saying this but my god, what an exquisite pain accompanied by that errored growth. You couldn’t have known it’s effect on me, that glorious moment when you brought me to your mouth to initiate the unveiling of my innards. Our very first contact between that tooth and my dimpled and overripe skin changed me forever. What a forward introduction, no talking, right to ripping. Did you know what you were simultaneously revealing and taking away from me? It seemed so easy for you to peel away my armour, to spit out my pips on that beach so they would just get lost amidst the chaos of eroding rocks. Gone, forever, slick in your spit. 

The scent on your breath was a mosaic of experience I have taken the opportunity to assume. You woke up that fateful morning and didn’t brush your teeth. It could have been because you were so rushed that it simply slipped your mind, but I like to think it’s because you just really couldn’t be bothered to. I could smell sadness on you, four cups of weak coffee instead of two strong ones. Probably just a way to fill the morning. Going back to the percolator and cleaning it, filling it, screwing it back together, bracing yourself on the stove watching the water boil, what wonderful and fulfilling tasks! I can smell the gross amount of mayo you put on your breakfast sandwich. I can smell the cancer-causing char on your bacon. 

Why do you live alone, sweet lass? There must be something weird about you that I didn’t get the chance to fabricate yet. All in good time though, I am trapped inside you now and who knows when I will escape. You fuckin bitch. 

Then you went to your bedroom for a while, maybe you were just playing dress up with yourself, maybe looking through old birthday cards to feel less lonely. You probably tried to read a book but couldn’t focus. I doubt you had anywhere close to enough enthusiasm to masturbate. Then you came back in a rush and shoved me inside your jacket pocket. 

Why do you always have pebbles in your pockets? There’s busted up weed in here and lint from your winter mittens. Charming isn’t it, when a person doesn’t think to wash their outerwear. So very juvenile. I half expected there to be a loose condom in here but, I guess I slightly misjudged you in that regard. I can see what song you’re listening to because your phone is always kept in your right hand pocket. Is it considered embarrassing to listen to the same song over four times in a row? Asking for a friend. 

You arrived at the beach and plopped down rather abruptly. You took me out of your pocket but teased me and held me suspended in your slumped hand. Looking back on this moment now, it has lost all enchantment. Being held by you was simply fulfilling my need to be held, it had nothing to do with you! Your skin is rough, no intent behind your thick fingers. JUST SQUEEZE ME YOU CALLOUS WENCH, WE ALL KNOW WHAT I CAME HERE FOR. 

Looking around the beach, there was nobody else around. What, is there a pandemic going on or does your foul smell simply deter the masses? Your head was hanging between your knees for a long time so I had a full close up view of all the dry skin on your scalp. I think I’m beginning to realize I don’t actually like you. You’re pretty gross. 

I honestly can’t believe you did this without even considering me first. Do you think I want to be in here? It’s disgusting in here. This vitriolic bath of hot acid is much too strong for me to combat. My acidity, far too weak for your supernaturally toxic gut biome. I don’t know how much longer I will last. But if I only have enough time for one last daydream, it would be for me to curdle this putrid soup, for my pulp to multiply until I am dribbling out of your asymmetrical mouth. You barf all of me onto your dusty floor where I would then spit in your face and let you know what I really think of you.

You’re a bad woman and I wish that we’d never met. 

Sincerely,

Tini Tangerini