Who said the fruit is forbidden?
Who said the treacherous fruit that bleeds and enslaves
Should be kept from blooming so divinely?
Overpowered as I am by this impetous desire,
I leave certain questions unanswered.
Let me not to this command succumb
Like a door that is pushed open by the rude intrusion
Of untimely storm winds.
What an honest indifference!
What a solemn cowardice!
Let this all be a satire, a secret that is heard
And then hastily forgotten.
These tainted thoughts, these sensual scents lingering so sweetly,
So desperately,
These shattering shamefulness.
Yet I speak of you and tremble like a villain
that has repented his malefactions.
I speak of you and my words are my tyrants,
holding me in their despising grip.
Yet I know I am lost, traveling in this sea of calamity
and hopelessness and dancing with shadows
and shadows of my shadow.
Blessed be your graciousness that damns me thus.
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