erected from the expansion
of the earth.

an aura ((surrounding))
clouding every fiber, every

i n c h--
(stereotypical male, what

else would you be?)
an ascension of niagara falls,

you attempt to defy gravity
- a science unknown to you.

(now) you hide from this vixen,
this Eve. her womanly (& curious)

ethos are so foreign to your laid-back
style of living, yet she seems so

perfect & this word makes no
sense, though it feels so right.

'we' is a word fit for a serpent's tongue
(certainly not your vernacular--hers).

you cannot help but let yourself
allow that word an e s c a p e

from your lips in a whisper (so faint
that it echoes towards the stars). she

watches those stars & that moon
with such determination & vigor that

you occasionally find yourself wishing
for a hobby (like hers). she is a fool,

a beauty, yet there is an attraction to her
(so strong) as if she carries one of your ribs.

she has told you, nonchalantly, that
this was the root of her creation.

one of your ribs became her(s). this
you cannot seem to fathom so eloquently.

the (perhaps) ludicrous statement hits you
as if it were a nervous tick & every thought

of it just erodes b i t s of your faith.
she cannot be speaking the truth -

this place is meant to be without sin.
you groan & proceed to brood, letting this

recently unveiled truth saturate you(r

she seems to be even the greater deviant
ever since the incident--actually talking with the

animalistic demon. you have perfect reason
to worry, yet she looks oh-so gorgeous with

the Serpent nesting amongst her tresses.
you sigh, barely resisting the temptation.

she beckons you forth, holding a mysterious
fruit in her palm.

you cannot resist her charm, her effervescence,
& this attraction could prove to be detrimental

to you (& her). she has already bitten from the
fruit, the apple, & this knowledge she forsook

purity for seems to bait you with ease. you take
the forbidden fruit from her, watching as it glides

from her fingertips into your (eager) hand. your lips
quiver against the apple's skin & you let your mandibles

sink within the s i n. you are overwhelmed with this
sudden knowledge, this lust; it hits you like a wave of heat &

you bask within it, & you pay no mind to Eve's incessant
accusations, for you know it was not solely your doing.

a babe is born the year following the outbreak of sin, &
you are ignorant of the creature's likeness in species.

(though) fourteen years following Cain's birth & ten years
following Abel's, you are content, with yourself & your progeny.

the Garden is but a distant reverie (now) & you
find yourself to be happier only after the dawn


Eve will forever be perfection in your eyes,
for there is Eden (in her).