contrition

It definitely was a mistake. I deviated from the path that seemed charted out for me. That of a mature , standing and balanced woman all tied up in a guardrail of principles.

Drawn by the mirage of a sumptuous feast held by the edge of the cliff, I took off my dress of Virtue and wore that of Jezebel.

The affair was promising. He offered me some Cabernet-Syrah. A bouquet of red fruits and spicy notes infused my glass with its ruby red color. Ruby, the tint of my heated blood. I drank from the palm of his hand. Never had I felt so free, unbreakable. Ruby, precious was the moment. The illusion would not abide . In a last effort to prolong the excitement I took his hand and led him towards the very tip of the cliff. He followed in a very hesitant step. Foreseeing what I was to do, he let go of my hand just as I jumped into the abyss. He watched me drop helplessly. I looked up and blew a kiss, he was gone. The phantasm had vanished.

I didn't die. My hair was undone my libidinous attire shredded. Remnants of a desire doomed from the start. I cupped my arms around my breasts in the attempt to keep some dignity. How could I resurface? My distinguished and reputable woman apparel was left behind on that cliff. The ascent would not be without clashes.