They say the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. I say it tastes the sweetest at the first touch of the lips, then it turns sour, in a pleasant way that tartness brings. You keep chewing on that bite, despite the fact that you know how it will turn because that sweetness still lingers on your lips. There it lingers, like a screaming beacon of light of desire and of what could-be's. It overwhelms you. It drives you. It pushes you to actively engage and fall victim to its delicious sweetness, but then you recall the tartness still encasing your mouth, recalling not only the taste but also the way it affects your senses and your perception of the initial goodness of the fruit. This is how I felt about Isaiah, my forbidden fruit.