Saturday, 1 November 2014


This could be
any love story,
if I whispered about your eyes,
if I brought tears to mine
and cried out about the sanctity
of your arms.
This could be
any declaration,
any abject devotion, if I honoured
the shining temple of you,
left offerings at your altar like
a stupid pilgrim seduced.
It could be any
tale of tender worship, any yarn of salvation,
if I prostrated before you, and polished your
ruby-studded wings…
It could be any of these things,
if it weren’t for the sacrifices
and martyrdoms of your cross
born upon a back so beautiful
and the tears of blood I let
weep forth
from their host.
So come, come now my deity,
entomb me softly in your
feathered embrace
and mark my emerald eyes, 
remind me of the moment
we decided
it was better this way?
Remind me why,
my faith grew weak,
and I promise,

I will let you go.

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