Move Me Poetry
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Move Me Poetry

My Apple Pie Is Never Gone

A life filled with sweet smells of cinnamon and bliss.

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

Cinnamon and love:
a fusion with the natural scents of sweet
apple—sliced, too nice
for the eyes. Only buttery wisps
that wish to hug me, gently.

The crumbles of heat—warmly
guarding my heart. Sweet and cozy, swarming
through my body—keeping me alive
when happiness is none but a delusion:

Butter melts and welds:
perfect with ice cold souls
who feel nothing but hunger, no number
than the day before—though less
now, with the softness
of flakes that embrace these well-baked,
fruity bites and that lovely spice—
the life!

Though my apple pie is never gone
too far from home—the fond
sweet smells of bliss
always smile
for me.



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