Dancing circles around the truth relentlessly,
acting ignorantly to bask in bliss — seconds that should be, but are nothing but the opposite.
(And Lilith sent a serpent to the garden, condemned Adam and his lover in jealous rage.)
Seeds of temptation, sprouting from sweet nectars,
and under the glow of street lamps, I drink you in.
Phone vibrates, as calls I miss in your presence,
and I can’t decipher what’s hidden in your eyes (despite my best efforts).
[–are you Lilith, or the Serpent in disguise?]
Dipping your fingers, sucking
the juices of my soul from between the webbs of your crevices.
Metaphors. Alliteration. Imagery.
You caress me on a cosmic level
and I find forbidden beauty in deadly sins,
and in the silence that stretches over the space between us.
Inconspicuous preference; condemnation and restitution.
I’m ready and willing,
you dangle me as if I were a grape vine, ripened;
your tongue slips from between your parted lips,
wraps around a grape, and you even eat its seed.
(What if I told you sirens were actually humans in those folklore stories?)
–and I’m curious as to what it’s like to be wrapped within the flesh and wet heat of your mouth,
bit into and swallowed;
an impatient hunger that I want sated by you.
Your tongue darts out as if to cage my soul,
and I wonder if you’ll even eat its seed.
Bated breaths in thick tension,
and the lingering aftertaste of sweet nectar when we exhale;
we pluck red grapes off a dangling vine
–[and] we’ll eat the seeds, even.
–Marie Meyers, 2017. All Rights Reserved.