Empty orchards

The green of her eyes
is unlike the apples
of orchards heavy
with ripened skin

The cold color
in simmering warmth
soothes me
but the flesh
that I cannot taste
sits heavy
inside the hollows of my heart

Without touch
a lifeless feel
without expression
my desires
are frozen cold
upon her gaze of steel

I simply stand
existing outside
until I am invited in
for the mirage of her meal

Tell me why
it is impossible
to eat from her hand
her disappearance
a further weight of reverence
for the heights
where she should stand

Within the emptiness
of infinite eyes
I now understand
the orchards are bare
torn and ill prepared
for the greed in my sight
for which there is nothing
but madness and despair

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