I guess, lately, he’s been asking why I pray to my own temple,
Like how I know each time he’s speaking
Holy, Holy in between my legs.
He is a devout worshipper and I’ve always loved the sabbath.
“Tell me you know how religion tastes. Tell me you know this is how civilizations begin, and collapse.”
Someone once told me it’s a bad thing to start suddenly speaking in tongues, but he knows that language better than anyone. I don’t understand a word, but thank God he does. Love is like the first cherry tree blossoming. Love is like the two of us only following the rules of the book we create. Love is like our screams singing out in the same key.
We are horizontal Sundays and bended knees. We are blanket forts that never deflate. We are fire starters and nobody dares to call 911. We are fire starters and nobody dares to call 911.