It is just a relationship.
To some, it is worthy of hell.
Full of kisses, hand holding and disagreements.
The lowest form of sin.
It will grow, blossom and mature.
For it, the wages equal damnation.
Yet, I am the anchor.
It began so innocently.
Yet, we will die persecuted.
In a very modern way…
Born to a society worshipping ancient text.
A love like any other.
A love not meant for the respect of law.
Yet, I am the anchor.
Maybe marriage.
Unholy.
Maybe kids.
Be damned.
Growing old.
Sinning the whole time.
Yet, I am the anchor.