We all lived in the Garden of Eden.
Our hearts lived on trees.
We chose to leave
and they died in our hands.

You knew it was wrong.
I was three
I wonder if it eats you
like it eats me.

We have apple hearts, sickly sweet and afraid of rotting away.
We were selling them on the streets.
You picked them from the stands
like you grew them yourself.



Is it strange that you're still everywhere in my life?
in the sweater you gave me, the blankets that keep me warm.
the people I talk to, the books I read
Your hands were the most beautiful I've seen.

You were supposed to love me
I suppose you do
sometimes I feel it
but it leaves so easily.

We all lived in the Garden of Eden.
Our hearts lived on trees.
We chose to leave
and they died in our hands.