Taste of Sin
Location
The guilty fingerprints of wretchedness, itself
Trails down the curvature of your spine
And I, for one, could not resist
The curiosity of all it possesses
The brilliance of your complexity creates a disturbance
My conscience consumed by the your bare visage
Stripped of innocence, dainted with my filthy fingers
But not at all in the sexual way, you are assuming
I need an explanation
Am I an infatuated sinner?
By indulging into the thirst of temptation
To be moved by the angelic physicality of such a creature
And holding no shame