passion fruit

the apple: crisp, green, ripe with poison. the maiden - skin white as milk, lips red as wine - takes one bite. the old woman, beaming with anticipation, begins to frown as she sees the maiden is still standing, breathing, and smiling. "you say all my dreams will come true?" says the maiden, her voice soft as silk, eyes wide with wonder. but the old woman does not respond. instead she picks up her basket and slowly walks out of the maiden's cottage, hunching with disappointment. the maiden is left alone with her seemingly delicious apple and freshly baked pie.

as she continues to take another bite, across the water, beyond the forest, in the depths of the kingdom's castle, lies her prince on the floor, stricken with a poisonous death. the maiden continues to eat her apple, unaware that her prince loved her so much he'd do anything for her.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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