His skin is my religion
His skin is my religion, my sacrament is his admission and adoption
Baptised in the water of innocence, he doesn’t  resemble corruption
He’s present to watch me become born again
His brown eyes saved me from a world so mundane
We stand together in this river my body is given to him willingly
He pours away all of my shame and history and instead it’s replaced with the goodness inside of me
A crucifix sign on my forehead
I close my eyes, he took me from the dead
The ceremony is over and inside his embrace I celebrate
I kiss his lips to seal a brand new fate
                                   ……….
His skin is my religion, I pray to him every morning and noon
Daily I feel his essence surround me, I see him beneath the full moon
His hand stretched out to me he pulls me by his side
Tangled together I cannot hide
I talk a gentle whisper, clasp my hands together, he listens always
No judgement from him in my darkest days
When the spirits appeared he stood before me
“You will not take her”, they wondered away to leave us be
His hands softly in my hair he wants to hear all my sins
I look into his eyes for a moment, I cannot lie to him
                                       ……..
His skin is my religion, he’s my midnight mass
Every night we lay in bed so the devil shall not pass
He smiles and I’m certain I can hear a hymn sung
His love and peace slowly become my mother tongue
Stretched out together, talking to one another
It becomes clear, the more we talk, there is no other
I could not worship another man the way I worship him
He’s my pastel green meadow in spring
Sleeping slowly breathing my head pressed to his bare chest
His fingers delicately trailing my *******
                                      ……….

His skin is my religion, Sunday church is only present in the bedroom
Wrapped in cloth together, making love in our tomb
His sermon is of true devotion as he’s inside me lying in purity
I moan the joyous words of pleasure that worship him entirely
He pulls me tighter I watch the sweat drip like it’s the holy water
I give myself to him like a sacrifice on the altar
His hair pulled through my fingers I bring him closer
Our lips touch religiously, the breathing becomes slower
He saved me, bandaged my wounds with olive oil and blessed wine
Promised on the holy book he would always be mine
He stops and bows his head to me
His skin maybe my religion but I am his queen  
                                      ……..