If going to
bed with
you is a
sin, I don't
ever want
to be holy.
The only lightning I'll be struck down by is when your lips
touch my neck. I want to let your love permeate through all
of my soul.
Your lips
would be
my chalice,
and I'd
drink away
my demons;
I'll whisper
confessions
of my love
at night
through
bed-sheet
veils and
heartfelt
prayers.
I'll admit it's a little sacrilegious.
I genuinely spent half an hour trying to get the format right.