the red apple

Her heart
descended from Eden,
Eve’s red apple is alive
within her flesh branches,
bitten, broken, scarred.
No man has a chance,
but the sweetest apples
are always out of reach,
so I’ll keep rustling
her flesh branches
with my hungry hands,
and my slapping mouth.
I will carve my name
with my teeth
on the trunk of her body.
Her leg roots wrap around me,
I quench her,
pleasure blossoms,
I bring her Spring.
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