you put your hands on me
like I am a church, a body
of worship, a home to confess
all your sins. write my
body like a poem, like a
confession, like you'll
find in me the verses of
redemption.

I am not your savior, not
a holy body. I am nothing
like salvation. I am the dark
place you only visit when
you're overrun with guilt
and rot and desperation.
I won't leave you feeling
clean, you'll leave me with
stains on your skin and ache
that will never empty.