I kissed a girl with a cross around her neck
A little silver cross.
Her lips didn’t taste like Church,
They didn’t taste of dust and forgotten souls.
BUT HER HIPS. THEY FELT LIKE GOD.
I wonder what her pastor would have thought if he could see
the way her eyes undressed me slowly.
I wonder if that cross around her neck,
that little silver cross,
Meant more to me than it did to her.
If it had meant more, would she have stopped my hand
as it crept under to folds of her skirt.
If she had truly remembered that little silver cross,
would she have whispered those deadly sins in my ear.
I THINK NOT
And that is why, that little silver cross,
was a sign to me.
A reminder of what I was taking.
Of who I was taking.