Poetic Interlude LXX

Her crisp, translucent arm hesitates,
Reaching for pink-and-pale-green flesh;
It is forbidden.
A slither; his sweet words –
That intoxicating scent. It was too tempting to stop,
Or to observe that flickering tongue in her ear.
Lascivious, luscious, pushed past her boundaries:
A rush of juice and flavour and knowledge,
Dripping down her chin.
The serpent slunk away,
No more to be seen.
She bit again.
Resistance: The firm walls at center,
Protecting, like as-yet-unknown motherhood, the womb.
Sudden, the mad rush to finish,
Before a drop is lost.
Her skin, now speckled, mottled like flaking paint,
She faces her punishment,
For trusting,
For tempting as she was tempted,
Uncertain of what she had become,
Or what she had gained.

©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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