Grapes by Frankie Reed

One Poem Only · Oct 1, 2025 · 2m

Grapes

Frankie Reed

we hung together —

tight, green,

not yet sweet.

small things,

skin against skin,

no space for air.

you leaned

into every breeze.

I held still.

neither of us said

what we knew

about weight.

we ripened unevenly.

you softened.

I didn’t.

the stalk grew thin

between us.

not broken —

just tired.

when I fell,

there was no sound.

just grass.

just air.

just me,

not where you were.

you stayed.

you always would have.

still facing the light

like it was enough.

if I’d stayed too,

maybe we’d have gone

quietly —

turned dark,

sank sweet

into ourselves.

but I tasted the sour

before it…