Crisp
Red
Rich
Shiny
Sweet
The whispers echo in her soul
“Death”, screams her mind as her heart takes the apple from the old crone’s hand
With tears in her eyes
She bites into the forbidden fruit
The juices run down her chin
And fill her throat
They steal her breath
Sweet as nectar
Deadly as the serpents bite
She folds to the floor
Still and pale
Still beautiful
Lost