This feeling inside of me.
Stricken down by what I say.
As I am no longer the master of it,
But the puppet on it's strings.
Like venom it flows through my blood,
Turning cells into vapor before stopping
At my heart.
What is it?
Like a craving of my soul.
I want it so badly.
Yet I know that it is the golden apple,
And to embrace it would be embracing evil.
Even when I demand it,
I will not give in.
My lips will go dry from saying no.
My heart will turn to ice before I give in.
Nothing hurts worse,
Then falling in love.