Poetry
crying with an apple in my hand
by Aida-Flavia Ciucaș
apple skin.
tears dried
before the bite.
seeds sleep.
no roots.
no rain.
an orchard
of silence
in my palm.
Appeared in Issue Spring '26
Poetry
by Aida-Flavia Ciucaș
apple skin.
tears dried
before the bite.
seeds sleep.
no roots.
no rain.
an orchard
of silence
in my palm.
Appeared in Issue Spring '26
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