Our sins, our secrets
those creatures that
fester beneath the
covers of our
bed

are visible from space.

If having sin made me
more desirable to you,
I would leap into
every wooden
box

and tell my deepest, darkest
secrets. To be laid out in
front God. Naked and
vulnerable, withering like
a rat trapped in a cat's
mouth

But I know that it
wouldn't be enough
to make you plant
your roots at my
feet

I am full of sin,
I am bloated with secrets,
my rib cage snapping,
sharp shards of bone
penetrating my heart

I bleed open, I bleed out,
and as I'm dying I wonder why
I was no match for the sins
that grew in you