Forbidden Fruit

Your lips were supposed to taste like forbidden fruit. Yet, every breath exchanged between our kisses, every millisecond we’d pull away from locked lips tasted limitless. Boundary lines melted when your skin touched mine. Your soul pleaded with mine to say yes, no matter the consequences, no matter what others would say or think. In that moment “yes” was all my soul knew how to say to you.

I reminisce to the night laying next to you under the stars, the ocean waves crashing down and the smell of your hair while your head was on my chest. I wanted that smell stained to my skin, I never wanted to forget it. I could wear your scent everywhere and remember the night I gave in to the desire of the forbidden fruit that you are.

When it comes to you, I have a moral attraction to forbidden fruit and an aversion to moral accountability. The forbidden fruit we think will be sweet tends to turn out bitter, this one though; this forbidden fruit is fatal.

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