Bruised Apples

Molting in the window, shapes of green and red

sunlight absorbing the succulence of their veins
shadows cast inconspicuously on ripened convex
dark, dim browns of nature’s benevolence

Cast aside, bruised apples, no longer fit for consumption
disposing decayed corpses of darker shades
no longer glimmering shades of desire are they,
aged, misshapen objects of unsought taste

No lips will touch thy sweetened souring
no fingers will clasp thy contours of necessity
only discarded to incessant squalor
No hope shall save thy rotted soul

This poem can also be found on http://www.poetry.com/poems/47779

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About jessienileacai

Irish speaker and artist. I love music, art, languages,literature, history, travel, photography, and comedy. I love Ireland, my heritage, the old ways and the beauty and people of this small island and its surrounding tiny islands
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