Heart-Shaped Apple

It’s a bitter love and a soft white flesh. Lost in orchards I see you stretch. Hanging from that tree. Supplicating and ever-sweet. Red is the color of love so true, purple is the color of true love’s bruise. Black as the hair on my head, with glimmers of red when the sky shines blue. So full of fantasies, beg, implore, beseech, you laid it all out for me. With a steady hand and two open eyes, the violence begins. Petition and pray but it’s going to go my way: gave up, gave in. It’s a pleasure to lord over, it’s a gift to be born a Master. It’s a chain wrapped around your throat and tied behind your back around your hands. For three words, you wait. Restraint. Two times today you’ve kissed my picture. One lock and key, break you down to nothing. Where you go is the place I give you. It’s a bitter love and a crisp white flesh. Broken skin and a bloody lip. How many thousand miles will the sun and wind strip naked the clouds. You know what I want to see, and it’s not above me until it’s right below me. It’s a bitter love and a heart-shaped apple, cut and quartered and made to measure.