Yup,
when left in the sun
they become warm like my lovers hands
and the light they reflect is as bright as his eyes.
Their vibrant color speaks to the sound of his voice
when he draws near and whispers in my ear.
The taste of his lips is just as sweet and soft as the flesh of the fruit.
but never will you hear them sing like he does.
At the turn of a week
They wither and shrink
when darkness consumes their complexion.
and that's when the fuzz starts to grow.
they rot and they stink
like a lost loves memory.
and as they fester
so does your regret from
never consuming them while they were younger
and untouched by the corruption of time.
and that is what sets them apart from him.
through time he gets wiser and the fruit of maturity blossoms
with the grace of his actions.

There’s such a thing, the Serenity Spring,
The cradle of all beauty.
Abode of light,
A haven from blight,
A place to pour out your worry.
The gentle waters, pristine,
Will make the filthiest soul clean;
Reflections reveal the truth, however ugly.
Simply let yourself be submerged
As your stains are rinsed and purged.
Float on your back and take in the green,
As rays of light create silhouettes of leaves.
Take a deep breath and inhale the smell
Of white lilies whose secrets you mustn’t tell.
A choir of birds sing a delightful melody
That melts all sorrow and agony.
Welcome, they sing, to the Serenity Spring
Where we’ll wash your anguish away.
When in your darkest hour,
Just close your eyes,
Delve deep into your mind,
Let your thoughts unwind,
And in this paradise you’ll be laid.

They pull us closer or they tear us apart
they tie one's hart
to another.
even still, these forces that pull us together  
might not bind us forever.
you can't feel these strings work
you can't see them either
but like light they connect us together.