You asked me if you can give me the apple. I said, 'No.'
The second time, you said you would gladly give it to me, only if we live in a world with no rules. I just merely shrugged it off.
The third time, you were looking at me intently, and said, "I will give it to you, but won't.". Just because my lips are dry.
Then one day, we were all alone. You asked me to give you the apple instead, and yet again I said no. An idea struck me, and I asked you this, "You do it then."
And without thinking twice you did. I took a bite, and that's all what it takes to make me sway. It was so sweet. It took my breath away. I remember closing my eyes. I remember myself hum with pleasure with the taste of it.
It was something that I always needed reminding. Even though it felt like nebulas exploding when we do it. After a while, I find it difficult to grasp and remember. But when you game me the apple again, it was like something that I always knew but the feeling never gets old, it always feels new. But the good feeling never lasted.
It was a gentle breeze in a gray day when I woke up. I am no Snow White, as much as you are not a prince. You were actually a witch wrapped in a black, black robe. I was just a lass by the sidelines. You just taught of trying your witchcraft on someone, and I happen to pass by. I was not awaken by a kiss, but a wrecking ball that hit me with so much force it left me maimed.
The apple you gave me has put me to sleep. For a long time it did. Remembering it now, it was all bitter and rotten. The memory of its sweetness gone the moment I was hit by that wrecking ball. In fact, it was never sweet.
The once I thought was a sweet apple was poison. It comes with lethal small dosage that gradually increases each time you give it to me. Without that knowledge, I took it happily not knowing it was slowly killing me.