You call our love holy.
It is painted white with bleach,
And these are rose quartz crystals, not pink diamonds.
You drink wine from a flask I marinated in the embers of my heart,
Skin stretched over my body to masquerade as lively.
I am merely a reflection of your inhibitions.
This willow canvas is sketched with Biblical depictions of miracles
So that I may also see heaven.
I hide from gargoyles and crucifixions
And shift away from the light emitted from stained glass windows.
Though Holy water cauterizes my skin,
Hymns render me silent,
And the ink of scripture makes my fingers bleed,
Do you think I can be saved?
I know your father created us both with a purpose
And you befriended sinners in your quest for our salvation.
Forgive me, for I have been a blasphemous companion.
I may not always preach your gospel,
Though I still ask for your guidance.
I pray with my hands touching the ground,
Not worthy of your light.
YOU ARE READING
An Ode to Muses to Kalliope
PoetryThis poetry collection explores regret, isolation, philosophy, with a sprinkling of guilt. Historical references are encouraged! If you're just going through the motions of life, whether it be blissful or difficult, these poems are great companions...
