Last Apples

Sharp, the swell, swirling And cold reluctance tumbles down into the empty pitted stomach Pale, my shaking hands, pulling at the weighted mindfull of memories, that will ! Rust and drip daily hinges will strain on posts of belief Again held up, by disbelief. Overgrown, and unkept, twigs touch Ohhh, long long blades of green, Fruitfull and empty, with plenty i leave. Only the last apples are mine !