The forbidden, no one speaks of it.

Not you, him or them

and neither will I.

We perfected the art of pretense.

If not spoken, then there isn’t life to it

Hence, did it really happen?

Peace of mind so foreign,

can barely remember when you had the luxury of its presence.

Your soul on the cross,

seasons after seasons,

living for your mistakes.

---

Hey! the celeste are calling, if fettered with a troubled soul

come forth and be gifted tranquility.

I present you this, time after time.

Walk away from your pride, I say.

Love your flaws.

Yet you cling on to the misery you call life.

I have to say, you are drying up

from the inside out, and its almost beautiful to watch

If it wasn’t familiar, dead eye.

As we dwell at the teat of the forbidden you forbade.

Written for Moonwashed Weekly Prompt – Forbidden – October 11, 2022