heaven was
ink set in binded text
cotton veils on prayer mats
a never ending trial
guilty day by guilty night
higher presence
cornering me.

but when I was
in your arms, heaven was
so close I didn't even have to reach,
I could taste it,
sweet syurga;
your rose-dusted cheeks,
petal soft,
eyelashes,
the tips of butterfly feet, gentle
against my neck, your hair, framing your face so

angelically,

jet black waterfall slipping through my fingers gripping, gripping at
liquid so

impossibly,


God is dead.
God is dead.
God is dead.

heaven
is


out
of




reach


               again.