Rose, Prose, Poetry

Desires of a Sinner

He never was certain that he was the spawn of the Devil,

For his horns were hardly frightening,

And many considered him a kind, humble tiefling.

But no one knew better than him of the sin that plagued his heart,

A disease that simmered under the thin fabric of his skin.

Selfish desires threatened to claw out of his ribcage

Like little fiends that feed on flesh and bone.

Fighting to justify every breath he breathed,

He worked endlessly to redeem his very existence,

Distancing himself as he offered help at arm's length

So that his claws may never hurt an innocent soul.

But then a man with golden honey locks of hair

And eyes of the purest sky blue and finest periwinkle jewels

Graced the earth with his presence

And the sinner found himself enraptured at his being.

He wasn't certain if he truly was the son of an angel,

But he knew deep in his soul that the golden-headed boy was heavenly,

Because why else would he feel like even gazing at him

In absolute love and adoration was a treacherous sin?

His words were woven from fine, silken threads into magnificent tapestries,

And his laugh sounded like the joyful twinkle of silver bells.

How else could a person be such a beauty and joy to behold

If not a gift wrought by the heavens themselves?

The tiefling fought to remain affectionate but distant,

Fighting tooth and nail quietly as he gave him the finest gifts,

Only to run away after setting them at the angelic boy's feet.

But the angelic boy continually invited him to stay for a moment,

Offering warm toast and tea with the kindest of smiles,

And the poor tiefling could only resist for so long.

He dared to stay in his presence, and he found himself falling,

Coming closer, closer, and closer still,

Until he was daring to hold the angelic boy's hand,

His soft, magnolia petal skin cradled in his calloused palm.

And eventually, the tiefling gave in to temptation,

Kissing lips as warm as the newly blossoming spring.