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.