the first bite is always the sweetest (but not for me)

time seems to blur the speed of memories;
now you're aching for postcoital reveries.
you want the rush and the risk of it all,
but when you bite the apple, i'll take the fall.

you'll taste the skin and i'll bite to the core,
i'll bear every seed while you ask for more.
"it's not sweet enough," the flavor of youth,
bore a hole through me to satisfy your sweet tooth.

so i'll hear about your friends and their trees,
and how you harvest nothing when you water me –
would you even let me blossom and persist?
nothing said after. just patriarchal desist.

why want more when my branches are left brittle?
why risk permanence at mania's committal?
this gluttony is something long foreseen,
if i too were on top, in taking i'd be keen

bury me beneath the soil with my dreams,
i'll gladly decay if it means i'm esteemed.
i'd rather burgeon in a few years' time,
'cause now you can't look after your fruit, nor mine