LOVE THAT SETS THE HOLY AFIRE
//
There is a way we burn
and it is not not for each other -
together, we are destruction, we are sin,
the stained windows of the church that flicker
green, red, gold, as a fire grows within.
Communion is our holy skin.
Two flames in the darkness, reaching,
so Heaven locks shut its gates at night.
We burn in spite of ourselves, because of ourselves,
and our future peels back like paper,
curling in deadly light.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Ghosts Lost & Winter Found
कविताwhen you steal all that's evil and bury it underground: these are our ghosts lost and this is our winter found. collected poems from 2017 [ © 2017 by shaye ]
