pews and pleas and pearls and please

to see a beautiful woman is to see God;
following the curve of her lips with your eyes is watching
the veins of your closed lids during prayer,
murmuring sweet nothings in her ear is kneeling between pews
with God’s ear turned to you,
hidden in plain sight, your penance spent between
her confessional thighs,
never enough hail mary’s.

and oh,
to kiss her,
and to taste her,
you know, it’s to savour the chalice of wine
and to devour the wafer on your tongue,
holding her tight like rosary,
pulling on every pearl with each new plea.

to love a beautiful woman is to believe in God;
to believe in a world where someone high above
has graced you with one of their own angels.

and if you ever get to,
(and oh,
i pray you will),
to feel her pressed against you
is to feel God and know He’s watching,
to hear her speak to you
is to hear God tell you His plans,
and for her to love you
is to walk into the gates of Heaven after every night.

Featured photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.


In a dream, you saw a way to survive, and you were filled with joy.


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