Eve of the poisoned apple
has crimson lips to be bitten
and crisp white flesh
that tastes of
Death
and the sweetness of
her ruin
If you were to cut her in two
at the center
her heart would be a pentagram
a magic older than time or sin
and be you Adam or serpent or
fallen angel
still it tastes the same
And she is
not the root of all evil
Evil is in the eye of the beholder
but no man’s eye can hold her