Forbidden Fruit: Part 1

Forbidden fruit, bittersweet yes she is. Beautiful, fully grown but because of life she fell from the tree. Through the garden, there are many. Intrigued, you reach. She isn't any fruit though, she's forbidden yet still you take a sip. Because of burdens and past hurt, she's become a little bruised bitter to many but you still have seen her sweet.

Like Humpty Dumpty she fell but never cracked. Never broke or released her positivity and beauty. Yield because if you go any farther you'll be in for an experience, something irreplaceable, irresistible, full of irritability and understanding her insecurities. No yellow light just green as you fall in knee deep.

You attempt to open her up like a book, no paperback copy only hard. Her exterior is like a shell, slight wear, and tear but still strong and sturdy. You brush your hands across her to feel the story, the places she's traveled. When you open her finally you see the pages, tears stained the first page this is when you knew, this story was going to be a trip.

You continue to flip, slowly because you see she's brittle, not so new and eager like most. Some pages ripped out because they took a piece of her when they left. They figured they deserved it more than her, although it was her story. Her pages. This doesn't stop you from reading because you're able to fill in the pieces. Like Humpty Dumpty you knew you could put her back together.

Past the rips, tear stains and stolen pages you have seen her. Through the fading of her pages and erosion, you understood her story. You loved it, the mystery of it all. You knew you would never be able to fill in the blanks of the lost story and try to understand what was once there before, but you knew one thing. You were going to leave your mark.

You began to rewrite my story, from mystery and confusion to clarity and understanding. You added to me and I added to you because you never knew you had the capabilities to write something so beautiful, to pick it up, dust it off and see past the flaws. The newly released books with the pretty binds never aroused you. I sparked your interest. Was it my red cover? Or the gold trim?

When you came across me you never expected for me to turn your life upside down. Addicted, feening, no matter where you are or what you're doing. No matter who you're with you can't help but think about reading more of me. Soon as you're alone and at peace, you finish me.

Did I disappoint, do you like my ending? I guess I'll never know because like everyone else you put me back. I wasn't good enough for you, you didn't want to keep me or keep me in good condition. You selfishly read me, listened to my story, understood the true meaning and still followed suit.

Now here I am again. With added pages to my unfinished story. Pieced together you still felt the authenticity. I stay on the shelf and wait for the next. You walk past me and can't dare to look at me, my bright, fearless cover scares you, you feel threatened and intrigued all at once and to see someone else pick me up makes you feel jealous. This is because you see the same look in his eyes as you once had before.

You took me for granted and now someone else is reading my story he sees the pieces you left. Maybe just maybe this next will be the correct rewrite. A chance you were too afraid to take because you figured it was too much work.