As you tempt me,
hanging barely from the tip of a branch,
barely inches from the tip of my fingers,
I hesitate, just for a brief,
but emotional moment;
time slowed around me
waiting at the edge of it's seat
for my decision
to explore the darkest depths
of the forbidden world of
forbidden fruits.

My hand moves closer
by the second,
Fear begging for mercy,
a plead I ignore
as my fingers caress you,
scanning your shape,
squeezing, and feeling your juice
slide down my fingers
and down my wrist.
Your scent calls me in
with promises of wealth & love;
an offer my instinct screams for me
to ignore.

Tell my instinct I'm sorry.