She was told had a big heart,
you wrung it dry,
A shriveled thing, brittle as a raisin.

She tried to breathe life back into it,
Rejuvenating it with sweat from restless hands,
Work a veil, a shield against you.

For a moment, she thought she healed—
Felt the fullness return, ripe as a grape,
Until your shadow crept back in,
Once more, it withered.

This time, she let her tears do the watering,
Let herself grieve what you stole.
Some things don’t grow back the same—
Sweetness was stolen when you reaped what you did not sow.

She never meant to be the snake,
to tempt you with something forbidden.
You bit into her like an apple,
Consumed what you never planned to keep.

So choke on the bitterness—
It’s all that’s left for you.
You will never taste her heart again.