The profane nature of my heart’s desire
Does not merit prayers
that a purer path may present itself-
My impious thoughts burn through me
Like a prairie brush fire that
paints the night sky red
And all the verses culled from the
holy texts meant to palliate my appetites
Cannot quiet
how I ache for you
my longing striking a sustained chord,
atonement slipping through my fingers.

Every time we touch, you leave a mark