She is a prayer made
by Gods when they have
lost their way. With words
leaking from her teeth,
and passion burning through
her throat, she spins my pain
between her fingers, like a
riot of thought. With blood
shot eyes, she watched the
world caress my darkest fears-
then with a slip of a limb-
embraced me and my shards
of bone. She is a mouth of silence
when you think you need speech.
Sheet music written on her
lower lip, she played the
tunes of my survival with a
quick flip of the tongue.
Words were spilt along a
bathroom floor, drowning us
in hope and tragedy.
Hands were sown together
by the fragments of
discarded scars. She swallowed
my fears and made me watch,
let them fester away on her lungs.
Told me that I will no longer
burn alone, that we are now one soul,
and we will die together. Now
my life rests comfortably
inside of her, warmed by
her veins and undying love.
She is a prayer made by Gods
when they have lost their way,
and she is my religion,
my savior, my friend.