I cannot wait,
to taste the forbidden fruit.
Hanging,
innocently,
unripe,
from the ceiling of the world.
It's calling me,
to touch her skin.
Feel it all the way up,
then rip it open
and eat the inside
slowly,
memorizing
every detail
while I indulge
in its young flesh
staining it with
my sins
and marking it
as my own.
The bad aftertaste
won't matter
as long as I satisfy
this eternal hunger
and then
I'll wait for another fruit
to bloom once again
ripe or not
I will feast on its body.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 10:42 PM UTC
I cannot wait,
to taste the forbidden fruit.
Hanging,
innocently,
unripe,
from the ceiling of the world.
It's calling me,
to touch her skin.
Feel it all the way up,
then rip it open
and eat the inside
slowly,
memorizing
every detail
while I indulge
in its young flesh
staining it with
my sins
and marking it
as my own.
The bad aftertaste
won't matter
as long as I satisfy
this eternal hunger
and then
I'll wait for another fruit
to bloom once again
ripe or not
I will feast on its body.
Request permission to use this poem