MICROPOETRY
Three Apples
A Free Verse Poem
Published in
Sep 6, 2023
three bruised fruits abuse my senses
their broken skins bleeding tart and damaged flesh.
apples. rotten to the core of your affections
falling short of love.
a bribe. to confuse my loneliness.
three bruised tokens of self-denial
my forbidden fruit
ill-used by your unrelenting fingers.
nails ripping holes within this soiled flesh.
my skin. weeping. blood.
© Sally A Mortemore 2023. All Rights Reserved.
With grateful thanks for reading 🙏
And thank you as ever to the editors of The Howling Owl: Marilyn J Wolf , Viraji Ogodapola and Zay Pareltheon
