A God's Breakfast
L, Did you know? Shinigami love apples.
Shinigami. Translation: Death God.
They live in the darkness of our hearts; a reverse world seen only by what we call Shinigami Eyes.
What they see is immersed in deception, shrouded in the mystery of unearthly beings.
Lips move slowly, grasping fruit that rots.
So sour, it fouls the tastebuds as a leathery tongue probes the bloody skin, teeth nibbling, but not
tearing.
Breakfast.
They drop a note; a note to Earth. It's just a mere excuse, to taste the candy drops of life.
Blooming red, like a setting sun.
An apple, so round, once held in the Shinigami's twisted claws doesn't crumble, nor rot.
He embraces the taste, washing the sweetness through his body.
The bones, pasty bits of flesh and cold blood all touched with a warming glow.
Amy Galloway.