Orange Skin

I dangle from the withered stem,  the radiance of my color reflects off the sun.  

You pick me, peel off my flavedo and push them to the side.

My pericarp not needed— paying no attention. 

The strings hanging on like a noose and yet you dismiss.

Dangerously draining my vessels

I become your vitals.

The pigment of my peel is disregarded. 

You peel until you get me how you want.

You peel without recognition of how I feel.

You peel until I am just how you want.