the cliche of the forbidden fruit

Grasp the flesh of the fruit in your hands and
let the juices run down your chin, drip drip drip
staining your clothes with a permanent reminder of transgression.
Bite deeply. Understand that this is inevitable,
understand that you were always going to do this
It was determinism, sweetheart.
You are not ever to blame.

The fruit is bitter and poisoned, but the joy you can taste is one
of your execution forestalled as you savour your sin.
You know you are in the wrong, yet you proceeded
Surely if you were not meant to be here,
it would have been disallowed,
banned, locked away, unauthorised, impermissible,
wrong
not just
”forbidden”

Feast. Take it slow.
When you finish, you will be punished for this.
Retribution is not mutually exclusive with innocence.

This is entrapment, my dear.