~ The Poet's Place Cafe~

I fell in love with apples that rot,
For them, I'd give everything I've got.
Whether their flesh tasted good or not.

There's something about the way they squish,
That makes them my most favorite dish,
For a black slimy mouthful, I wish.

I know they have the stink of a skunk,
I'm not a fan of their putrid funk,
But I've made a vow and I'm no punk.