Eve

The sight of those who know love for you

Was misted. And to their tongues you tasted

Something like perfection.

And born through all this adoration

Is a life furnished with every verdant and beautiful gift.

You had everything.

And to him you were everything.

Truly mother of all the spoiled and beautiful,

You wanted for nothing. Yet you wanted everything.

And with all ten fingers you felt for

A semblance of something

To appease that deep deceptive hunger

That all your daughters know.

And the hunger ate you alive.

He blamed you.

Now they blame your daughters for everything

When they fall.

They blame you for what they feel.

That their thirst for you leads them
To pools of madness.

They blame you for the stirring of desire.

A twisted game of shame.

They blame you

As though self-control is a myth.

And it's you who has spiked 'strong' minds with love

Or something like it.

Poor Eve

You were always easiest to blame.