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Forbidden Fruits
Author: Mike

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You catch my eye from across the room.
You, with your ash-blonde hair flopping over your eyes.
Those eyes, dark with desire. Hot with lust.
That nose, that slope of perfection.
Those lips, how I long to feel their sweet caress.
Broad shoulders, broader than any woman I have ever known.
A small spattering of hair across your marble torso.
And those hands, bigger than any I've ever seen.
But oh so safe.
Hips of steel, of comfort. Thighs to bring anyone to their knees.
Unshaven legs, how alluring.

The epitome of exquisiteness.
The peak of excellence.
Aesthetically pleasing in everyway.

But one.

You have a secret. I know what it is.
The one flaw in His otherwise flawless design.
An embarrassment to you, to others around you.
To those you love, you want to love.
But can't.

And so, you look away. You feign disinterest.
Disgust, even.

Because you know it can never be.


But I feel the same.

------- Author's Notes -------

Secrets are torture. But you're never alone.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Meridian (128.82.41.217) -- Friday, October 2 2009, 12:57 pm

Part 1 comment

Hey Mike! I've got class in a couple of hours, but I've got to re-read this one again. I was already laughing when I came across the line, "Unshaven legs, how alluring." And your author's notes emphasize your point. You're absolutely right. We've just got to be careful when sharing those secrets. There are times where we get into a conversationalist/testimonial/personal story mode, where everything, unintentionally, ends up coming out.
Mike (79.75.153.105) -- Friday, October 2 2009, 02:45 pm

..

Rofl :P I do quite like that line myself ;D
And yeah, I know what you mean. Many a time I've been in that mode myself, and catch myself before I say the wrong thing. FUN TIMES!!
 
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