Just because my two hands are rough
Does not mean I long less to touch.
The thought of the feel of skin on skin
White hot at merely the thought of sin.
Bless our souls and hope to go through
The pure white gates, just me and you.
As we stifle a giggle, laughter within
And uncontrollable lust akin,
I hope so much the keeper does not see
This heavy darkness within me.
The weight of sin may keep me away
From the things I wish to keep,
But I will do what it takes to stay
So that you never have to weep.