Fervently, anxiously, I pick at my skin.
Wine in mouth while I mull over things.
I see a beautiful boy at church today,
And he makes me believe in a God-fearing man.
I startled myself as I pray that much harder.
Dedicated to a future with his palm in my hand.
But beautiful boy is he really?
Who tunes out the priest when smiling in my gaze.
Is it, his body and blood devout in prayer.
Or is he simply a boy my age?
Without even offering me the sign of peace.
He has broken my heart.
Because I don’t know his name, his dreams.
I’ve just given him a part.
Play husband who steadies my hand,
In a world I won’t make true.
Watching kneeled upon cold wood,
While we’re separated by the pews.
He’s not the only boy turned fantasy.
Convicted criminal caught and shackled.
Then I wonder why romance is dead.
As I rip Her from the tabernacle.
Forgive me, for this simple sin,
As I don’t want love and I don’t want him.
Just reassurance from within.
And so, I peel my skin.
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Author:
Urgirl_martini (
Offline) - Published: September 6th, 2026 07:12
- Comment from author about the poem: Forgive me, me.
- Category: Love
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Fränz Müller, sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
Sometimes we are more in love with the people we think they are, or could be, than the actual person standing before us…great work!
Exactly! Thank you. ☺️
You need to kill that one at the root.
I try...
It is the message so cleverly said in rhyme that gets the fave. It is so common to let a dream rule a relationship to try and mold another to fit your form and image of ideal. People are not perfect but are they perfect for you. Well done and a fave
Even your comments read like poetry! Thank you so much. ☆♡
You are very kind and most welcome
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