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Sunday, June 26, 2011

Forbidden Fruit

Many sleepless nights blanket my spirit. Haunted by various examples of desire, as Lust lays atop my skin. Can you see it?
The toss and turn, head underneath the pillows. Cool air from the ceiling fan, now between my legs the pillow goes. 


Imagining the fan is actually your breath delivered on a cool breeze. You're slow rolling my nipples, they harden with ease. My body obeys to the slightest touch. Such a dramatic high causing my senses to rush. Addicted to the very existence that is you, but alas, you are Forbidden fruit.

I want to slowly swallow from your fountain of youth, keeping my heart strong. Melodic motions, sliding down my throat, THAT sound forms the perfect song. Hard harmonies diving into a symphony of tonsils, but alas, your sweet taste is Forbidden fruit. 

Knowing someone else enjoys your laugh and smile, I become intrigued. See, I thought only my  presence could bring forth the curves in the corner of your mouth. Beautiful teeth behind the lips that can suck a soul out. I guess Forbidden fruit grows in a public spot.


My earth once held down your roots. Your growth expanded along with my hunger. Patiently waiting til you were ripe enough to choose, savoring while my mind begins to wonder. 
Wondering why my appetite craves you, I cover myself in your leaves of truth. 
Here, I'm full.

Life has fed me thus far. But I'm a picky eater. I'm surrounded by candy daily, yet I search for something sweeter. I look to you. Go ahead and disturb this meal that I thought was meant for me. Climb on the table whispering "Eat me please" 

Alas, you are Forbidden too. 
Taught that only man meat is what I need. A woman on the plate is only there to please, tease, and put the curiosity of exotic foods to ease. The debate over these delicacies causes me to test taste each. Drenched in their scents, I am pleased. 


But, I can not continue to indulge, Forbidden fruits don't fill me up. I'm satisfied for only a short time. Replaying that first bite over and over in my mind. I reenact that moment I closed my eyes as that intensity tap danced on my tongue, only in my fantasies I am not wrong.  

Finding peace from across the street, I now just stare at the tree. Smiling every time it sheds a leaf. I imagine it has outgrown the earth it's in. Resisting the urge to dig it up, my feet stay planted, again. If I continue to lust mentally is it still a sin? My thoughts aren't actions, so in my sub conscience I orchestrate an elaborate feast of pretend. 


One day a tree will grow just for me. I shall pluck from it freely. Its fruit will nourish me, colored leaves cover and protect me. 
I will feast for days, proud to let my mind, body, and soul eat, eat, eat. 
Although every now and then, I want to consume what's across the street.