Forgive me.

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.