The Sin

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The moment we succumb to the hunger for another, we descend into an inferno. Upon these sheets we contravene the rules of society and quench the thirst that grips us. What is lust when it’s not desire? What is sin when it’s not a transgression? A necessity adequate to anatomy’s appetite yet its consequence brands the surface for such “wicked conduct.”

But I transgress regardless like every addict with their substance of choice. Mine is sin and it all began with a single touch…

The callous pads of his fingertips linger on my skin, searing my soul as he brandishes his claim. His choice of enticement is the temptation of falling, to stain my wings with a sinful tint. To become a fallen angel like himself. I cannot help but be seduced by the prospect of being his mistress, his provocateur of desire and his maid to sate his requisites.

He knows the smokescreen I conjure, the camouflage I wear, and yet marvels its intricate pattern, pleading to witness what promiscuity lays beneath this façade.

Warm breath caresses my ear as he lists his forbidden desires. Could I be the one to free him of this suit of concealment? Could I open the gate to his wildest fantasies? Could we ruffle the satin sheets of virtue?

This uniform I wear is merely an addict’s deception of perception. Little did I know he’d soon strip me of its trickery, of my virtuous appearance, to explore what wickedness I hide below this lace of disguise…

Unknown

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Lace upon the skin
Draped across my flesh
Concealing the feeling within
Building the surface afresh

Hollow vessels for eyes
Hidden beneath this decorative lace
Tear’s unsightly stain in disguise
I’m blinded from the derision in your embrace

Stripped of my illusion
A pool of delicate pattern on the floor
For your enjoyment, I believe the delusion
I am merely an object you deplore

Lace
A veil of perception
Demurring and defeating the attempts to debase
This carefully structured body of deception

Woven into the cracks of torment
Lace completes my soul
Seducing me down the decent
Of believing I am whole

© Tammy-Louise Wilkins 2014.

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