Now, most beautiful

By the church where no-one prayed.
In the corner sat your angel.
Weeping dusty tears while the universe cracked.
This second of truth, in a century of lies.
That angels cried. That god was still alive.
Such grave confessions.
If we ripped open heaven.
It wouldn’t be sky anymore.
There wouldn’t be a dawn to tomorrow, to a day you prayed would end.
Only the maddening loop of the well packed past.
Your angel sits and frames a beauty as the sun sets.
And the moon once more floods the heart.
We’re just diamonds and tears in the moonlight.
Lapped by the evening tide.
So write you wish in the sacred book, between thin pages.
Keep your dreams and your wants quiet.
I will look away.
Hoping the secrets never include me.
Then pass the book to that little corner.
And let the earth break open once more.
As the ascent of man can only come again.
At the restoration, not the fall, of angels.
The filling of love in god’s teeth.
That cracked on the sweet destruction of the old you.

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You are my religion

I feel your skin, soft and silky like bible pages.
Precious-sacred, and containing such wonder.
The church of your heart tolls the bell in my soul.
Calling me to prayer.
Forcing me to bow.
Anointed, and blessed while you crucify for a kiss.
Keeping my faith locked like a secret only I will know.
You are my religion.
Knowing I’ll always be devout.
Hallelujah.

Skirt your soul

Coughing on the brick dust.
Not complaining.
Just re-arranging.
This sanctuary you’ve housed us in.
Licking the light that shines through the stained teared windows.
You cover me in everything.
You wrap me around you like a piece of string.
Feeling the blood pump through these veins.
Skin on skin. Lips to lips.
With an infinity smile you harken me forward.
Out of this church of our hearts.
The fresh mountain air hits my lungs.
Breathing in the butterfly breath of your exhale.
You tomorrow’s sigh.
Hand gripped and stable. Grounded when I was falling apart.
Steadied my soul.
And when I was letting go, you let me fly.
Soar.