Like an apple that ripens and exudes a natural stream of sweetness, like a bite of what ironically feels like undeserving blessings and pure sin to intoxicate in, like the aftertaste that embalms lips with long-lasting delight, like the teething crunch of excitement that escalates the adrenaline from the littlest things, like how one a day keeps the doctors away, like the polished shine of skin that glistens a reflection of oneself, you are just like that.

Garden of apples, I'm my best and you're my credit.