My love, the only place I have ever found any faith was within you. The only place I ever tasted divinity was on your lips, your skin, your smile. The only hymns that ever seemed fit for a God were the ones that spilled from your mouth when my hands and lips were on your skin. The only holy verse I’ve ever memorized was your body and how it could sing for me. The only place I felt divinity was in the press of your lips against mine. The only flagellation for faith was in the dig of your nails into my skin. The only part of a holy book that I ever highlighted were the soft places of your skin that my mouth turned purple and red, like beacons in the night leading me back to what was mine. The only time I’ve ever felt the touch of God was in the heat of your body against mine. The only angel’s wings I’ve ever sheltered in the shadow of were your arms around me. The only temple I’ve ever found a home and a safety within was you.
But, gorgeous, what religion has ever aged well?
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