Wines of Our Lifes by Twisted

“ It is there, everywhere you are. You may not see it, but it is there, with you everywhere. They all are.”

He turned to find her gazing strangely at him.

“ And that would be?”

“ The wines of our lives.”

“ What do you mean?” He inquired, wondering of her interesting riddle.

“ Every fruit has a unique taste, but you’ve never tasted them all. For there are do many.”

“ Go on.”

She glared at him, though he remained passive, with a hip set against the table she gritted her teeth.

“ Some are meant to be savored, others are dry, and sour to swallow.”

“ Why are they wines, and not the fruits themselves?”

She sighed, before walking over to him.

“ Don’t you understand? Fruits spoil, but you see, wine get better with age.”

“ Ah.” He turned, picking up a scroll from his desk, before placing it down again.

“ What does this have to do with anything?”

She laughed, before sitting on his desk, running her fingers through her dark hair in lieu of a comb.

“ It is life. The wine is all of the fruits that make up life. It’s essences. And then there are the poisons.”

He glanced at her, expecting her to elaborate since she caught his attention.

“ The wines and the poisons?”

“ Yes, now you’re getting it.”

He shook his dark mane of hair. “ My dear, I am not even grasping your level of meaning.”

She blew the hair from in front of her face, gazing at him with her golden eyes.

“ Okay, mister! Listen up! The wines are fruit, and the poisons are?”

“ I don’t know.”

“ The sins of the vine!”

He continued to stare.

“ Okay, the peach, give it a personality.”

He arched an eyebrow. “ You are the craziest woman I’ve ever met.”

“ Thank you for the endearment. Okay, let’s say a peach is passion. It is sweet, it’s nectar juicy. Right?”

“ Yes.”

“ Alright. Now jealously or envy, a sin would be what kind of poison?”

He thought for a moment. “ A serpent’s.”

She nodded her head. “ Exactly. Do you understand now?”

“ Perhaps. Now tell me, what would lust be?”

She cocked her head to the side, thinking, as she licked her lips, she noticed the hungry look in his eyes.

“ The fruit of lust would be a pomegranate.”

He pulled her to him, licking, kissing her neck. “ Hm, why?”

“ In the legend of Hades and Persephone, Hades desired Persephone as his wife, lusted, so therefore—”

She moaned. “ Dear?”

“ You know,” he whispered in her ear, “ we are very fortunate that there is a pomegranate in my fruit bowl.”

“ Oh? And where is that?”

“ In the bowl right behind you. Now tell me, what is the legend of us?”