It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Once desire seeps through the skin
to stain the sinewy stage within
I couldn’t walk away with only a hint.
I kept coming back to that wretched scene
feeling compelled to play out my dream
as real as poisoned apples and magic beans.
How long did it take for me to realize
your quiet eye was taking aim at the skies?
My heart was never your prize.
The cost of embracing fire isn’t being burned
– cold ash sleeping dreamlessly in your gilded urn –
but the haunting persuasion that yearns.
Yes, it was the first time, but we both knew it wouldn’t be the last.
In response to the Opening Line Discover Challenge