You love him, don’t you?
Him and his pale fingers
Tangled in your hair
Running down your spine
Him and His lips
Against your neck
Your jaw
Your chin
And in these empty halls
With him
Religion shifts and turns and blurs
His mouth is your confessional
And you sin,
You sin
You sin
And the devil, why, he never seemed so holy.
- Author: thewayiwrite ( Offline)
- Published: March 4th, 2020 17:18
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 228
Comments2
Very nice!
His mouth is your confessional... I like that a lot.
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