Artwork by Andrea Miranda

I am my Mother Eve’s child;
I always want the one thing
I can’t have.

the entire world in front of me,
the life I could live,
and I want to feel you breathe on me,
to love me for the fuck of it.

I’m in a garden
with everything I need
surrounding me,
yet I am Eve’s daughter,

I reach for what’s out of reach,
pushing past what’s in front of me
and listening to the little voices
who say I can
against the thunder who warns me otherwise.

never satisfied
with mere perfection,
I was given everything,
but I want what’s forbidden.

I want your heartbeat,
want your head on my chest
to crack open a diamond and see what’s inside,
to know what the stars whisper
late at night.

I want to be like God,
but I must’ve forgotten
that He is all alone
on a golden throne,
watching the people below
who are His children, yet could never know Him
and never be whole.

I tell them how
I want love that I choose,
a righteousness that I fight for
Eden is never good enough for me,
I want heaven.

God, if He watches everything,
must see me there too,
yet He says nothing.

Perhaps He is proud of me;
while He sits in silence, I stumble
and stand above the mountains,
even as I release hell,
He sees Himself reveal in me.

like He made all these hidden things
just for me to discover.

so through shadows I wander,
and wonder what comes next;
my curiosity grows wider
as my patience grows thinner.

they say I’m a sinner,
I say they’re afraid
and when they cast me out,
it’s their loss, not mine,
I’m only going further in my journey
while you’re left behind.

there I am,
hands wrapped around the apple
and my heart races, temptation,
they scream at me to stop–
but I am my Mother Eve’s child.

Mia Altamuro is an eighteen year old writer from New York. She studies Journalism and Communications at Suny New Paltz. She was a semi finalist in the Blank Theatre Young Playwrights Festival, and has been published in Lupercalia. She is @mia.isabelle_ on Instagram and @m.bella2003 on Tik Tok.

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