I kneel before Your altar, head bowed low,
While incense rises like my hidden tears.
The same hands clasped in prayer still long to hold
The one whose love fills me with holy fear.

They read Your word and tell me I'm astray,
That this sweet love corrupts my faithful heart.
But Lord, I've searched my soul both night and day -
How can such tender grace tear me apart?

The hymns still move me like they did before,
When childhood faith was simple, clean, and bright.
Now every verse becomes a closing door,
As I seek mercy in Your fading light.

Did You not form me in my mother's womb?
Did You not weave each fiber of my being?
Then why must love become my spirit's tomb,
While others find Your grace so sweet and freeing?

I love him with the pureness of the dove
That represents Your spirit from above.
Each prayer I whisper holds his gentle name -
A sacred offering wrapped in needless shame.

Still here I stay, between these ancient walls,
Where stained glass shadows dance across my face.
My love for You, for him - it never falls,
Though caught between damnation and Your grace.

Perhaps one day I'll understand Your plan,
Why some must bear this cross of love denied.
Until then, Lord, I'll love You as I can,
And keep this truth like Peter's thrice-told lie.