the only time i get to hold your hand is when we pray to a Father that hates us, the smell of burning lavendar envelopes the atrium.
my aching knees feel cold against the floor, you drum your fingers on the wooden pew.
a methodical tune escapes your lips and an ungodly feeling settles over me
thoughts of last night play over and over again in my head
these stained glass windows are starting to feel like two way mirrors
your breath hitches when i brush your thigh
i'm reaching for a bible to follow along to
the monotonous drawl of the priest,
too old to be inspiring a crowd,
too young to meet god.
he's saying adam and eve,
adam and eve.
i hold your hand during prayer,
an excuse to hold your hand.
amen amen amen.
we're weary of suspicion.
suspicion like it's a crime.
in this room filled with ornate chandeliers and crying children and old people keeping up tradition.
truly, i've never felt more alone and depressed than in a church. where people pray for salvation so as to start a new week purified, reborn.
though as for us, we're sinners forever.
10,000 hail marys couldn't fix that.
truly, you make me feel divine.
i'm looking at you looking straight ahead.
i remember the warmth of your lips on my neck, your hands tracing my collarbones,
how you smile when you kiss me,
how you kiss me.
in the name of the father,
the son, and the
holy spirit.
my forehead,
the tip of my nose,
my lips
amen
our mouths crash
against each other
and i melt.
you shuffle your feet on the carpet.
i'm trailing behind you, staring at your hair,
the way it swishes back and forth,
a dark tumble of waves i think
and thanks be to god
and thanks be to god.
sitting on the outside steps,
i notice how you radiate sunshine.
and what is brighter than a shooting star?
who has suffered more than jesus christ?
and for what?
i think:
if our love is a sin,
then i don't want to be saved.
///
btw if this looks familiar its cuz i published it in my other book (dulcet). i just thought it'd fit better here :)
