Ambrosia

Desire was always a bitter-tasting fruit
One that puckers the most perfect formed lips,
and breaks the most beautiful of smiles….
-------------------------------------

I had bitten into desire with a ravenous naivety,
indulged by hasty impulses.
In the mere time your beautiful eyes captured my own,
I had dedicated myself to the most inconceivable sin;
I coveted what I could never deserve

I subsist in my own private universe of pleasure,
in which I humor the idea of you yearning for me.
I fantasize the most blasphemous thoughts,
yearning painfully for a touch that could never reach my heated skin.
Yet I coexist with a bliss far more excruciating than a licking flame

I no longer observe my own reflection;
my eyes are trained to view the blackened lips, stained by desire.
My fingers frozen from the cold fruit,
no longer distinguish a solitary tingle of pain from craving’s venomous teeth.
However, your image remains, torturous in its glory

I lay here as a victim of desire’s pleasantly violent grip,
daydreaming your great defeat of my perfect nemesis.
My naivety continues to paint you in godlike perfection,
blind to your hideous sense of cruelty.
Through all, my devotion has never swayed

I have been broken more than I have been repaired,
as if I am the most fragile glass.
Am I the one to enthuse my own shatter?
A singular hope remains - that you will halt me prior to my suicide,
as I lay here in a thousand pieces next to a motionless heart

I will always find a strange beauty in the bitter taste,
for nothing is more deceiving than desire’s irresistible cry.
It’s song a tittering of confident promise,
nothing more than an alluring seductress,
finding flaws in strength’s perfect façade

I gravely search my conscious for traces of perseverance;
perhaps it had died the moment you carelessly ripped my heart from my throat.
But what am I to do with the sharp fragments left behind,
that bite into my throat, preventing me from optimistic utterances?
You own no words to satiate me

I still find the predicament unfathomable;
that you have not been concerned by my destroyed state.
My tears roll off you with the fluidity of a cleansing rain,
pleasing to a sadistic soul with heartless intent.
How was I fooled by your devil eyes?

I pathetically attempt to crawl towards a visualized antidote,
to hopefully conclude this blinding internal hell.
How could I have been so naïve to want you?
How could I have been so idiotic to love you?
The vital question is why can’t I stop?

I whisper your name into desire’s flesh,
a pleading for release as I devour more of the murderous drug.
A masochistic addiction that I can no longer resist,
killing me more slowly than your lies could ever aspire,
is my overwhelming worship for you

I wonder if my adoration has become sick;
it has morphed into a lethal obsession,
pulling at insanity’s weakened strings and unraveling me inside out.
Is it not sick that I love you so,
and you love me not?