As the apple to Eve,
he is the temptation to me. An untouchable forbidden fruit,
ripe and ready if I could only reach up and pluck it.
Betraying my better judgement I have held it to my lips,
breathing in its sweet and innocent scent. My body yearns to take a bite, knowing the sultry scent,
anticipating the firm flesh and soft sinking of my teeth into what lies beneath.
But the fires of just punishment hold my tongue where it is,
aching to savor the seducing flavor. The walls of right and wrong I've built still hold,
but are chipped in places where I can see through.
Knowing the fate of a single bite, still I hunger for the forbidden fruit.
YOU ARE READING
Moving the Mountains
PoetryPoetry used to bring down countries and inspire artists and break and win over hearts. This poetry is meant for the same fate, if only one truly decides to read it.
