My lover has left an apple
waiting on my doorstep:
firm fleshed, green-skinned, one blemish
small and flaxen coloured
is how it would have seemed, had it not
been left unsignalled,
growing over-ripe in hot sun, till
I rushed out unaware, geysering
warm mush beneath my shoe
the brusque scent of semi-rancid apple
follows my steps throughout the hall
and across my neat lounge:
reminding me how sweet
well timed words could be














Comments
--
We speak in riddles
Expecting the world
To listen between the lines
not something that needs to be "repented of", but it's a great stylistic change nonetheless
--
'Beauty will save the world'
--Fyodor Dostoevsky
--
'Beauty will save the world'
--Fyodor Dostoevsky
--
'Beauty will save the world'
--Fyodor Dostoevsky
--
'Beauty will save the world'
--Fyodor Dostoevsky
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