deviance and the devil

once, she kisses the serpent
and his breath somehow smells of the aromatic apples,
punctuated with the pungent fragrance of red cinnamon.

she tastes deviance in in his devilish smile,
sweetened by the honey-laced words that fall from his lips
(and the lust dripping with the venom,
the vindication and the vengeance.)

he is temptation, the tempest, the eye of the storm,
the stillborn sentences dangling in the heavy air between.

she is not innocent, not helpless,
only bewildered by the infinite
paradoxes and the possibilities,
the flavor of immortality.

--

once, she kissed the serpent,
but she could never remember his name.