I loved you and gave you all.
Our whiplash of opened souls together,
twinning in a Celtic knot.
Love that stayed securely tied,
until it went stagnant—
frayed.
Speaking sweet nothings is a curse within itself.
A prophecy to stay sweet, secure.
Our knot was fastened by truth-stained lies,
scarlet tinged lips that uttered white noise.
A hymn of unfurling, unease.
But the confession remained lost in translation.
You say, “messy is a strong suit one can endure.”
Twist yourself around me every Sunday morning.
Come alive in the evening.
You dance to a song of prayer,
but as I reach for you,
there is nothing.
It is hard not to let go.
I look to the light, but you enter in utter darkness.
I look to the left and reciprocate the words you can't express.
I rekindle the innocence of desire. Call for it.
But I’m hidden in sin.
Lying under sweet magnolia blossoms,
dreaming of what truly lurks in the dark.
The echoes of the trinity force me to listen,
warped noise.
Days won’t end in reconciliation, they say,
“she’s such a church girl.”
I ask why.
They tell me you’re not a reincarnation,
and it’s not the heavens that should be asked.
They see you as perfect, but
you do me wrong, and it feels like gospel.
Hidden Sin
I began to write this at a time where I was struggling to let go of a love in my life. I tried to find ways to excuse the loss, in the passing moments. In turn, using my own hatred for feelings of loss to compromise myself. As the thought of need outweighed the bad, the thought of good; vanished from my life. This piece managed to be my moment of clarity when I couldn't figure out how to cope with the emotions. Religion is used in this way to describe how the person made me feel. Like my own personal breaking away from belief, manifesting in them.