Apple of my Eye

Peacock Poetry

We poets do love to reflect upon love and can have a tendency to romanticise and idealise passionate, impossible love and limerence. Today’s poem breaks that mould a bit as I explore the nature of the kind of love that actually does us good!

The Real Deal

True love doesn’t leave you hanging on for any morsel of reciprocation that might pacify your starving heart.

It doesn’t keep you haplessly waiting for a non-committal text message or leave you feasting on a maybe like a destitute devotee.

It doesn’t beg

or brag

or bend-over-backwards for belonging

because it knows its own worth in the most humble of ways.

True love is an apple.

A rosy-red Braeburn that blushes with beauty

and bursts with natural flavour.

It is sweet

and bold

and spicy

and delicious

and it shines so naturally that the whole world wants to come and take a bite.

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