The Fall

Long, pale wispy fingers, clenched tight, an apple in her palm

She stares at it, watching the perfect meat stain brown in the air

She runs her tongue over her lips, the taste sharp

It is in that moment that she falls, backwards and backwards

for so long she is not sure she is falling anymore

raven hair flying in the air, ivory white skin

The apple is hanging in the air, suspended as she watches,

eyes wide with fright as the breath leaves and the blood freezes in her veins

She licks her red lips and tastes the poison there.