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BloodOfSaints May 28
One more moment in your presence.
That is heaven.
And everything else is exile.
BloodOfSaints May 28
Your hands are altars.
Your mouth is war.
I keep your gospel on my tongue
like a rusted nail
swallowed out of devotion.
BloodOfSaints May 28
Heaven isn’t real to me.
Only you.
And if I have to become the heretic,
the martyr,
the lunatic bleeding on the altar of your indifference—
so be it.

— The End —