Of apples and hearts (draft)

A weight of years until the apple seed grows,

wrapped in the anger of a thousand


yet once the tree matures and

swells with fat, succulent


the juice extracted is so sweet

that to savour it must surely


Polishing the red skin makes it glow

as vibrant a ruby as the dying


the white one takes a bite

and falls down a grave of


But for all its power,

not even that can break the molten


residing in the chest of the gardener.



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