Forbidden fruit reveals its poison too late.
One taste and I am in rapture.
Willingly I succumb: my sin now my fate.
By its scent, I was easily captured.
Perfection in its unconventional design,
My fruit is the embodiment of beauty.
Eagerly I await its invitation sublime…
This fruit is my god — how it moves me.
I lust for this fruit, memorize its skin.
It awakens my most primal senses.
I peel its layers to expose within, and
Gratefully receive my recompenses.
Every detail, every flaw, I beg to witness.
(All encompassing and dangerous is this passion.)
Still I knowingly returned to its tree to pick,
More enslaved than I could have ever imagined.
But with a grip so sweet, I forgive its venom.
Still I ponder retreat, but instead confess:
There is no resolution. Denial proves futile.
I surrender to being hopelessly obsessed.