A cathedral rests beneath my skin.
Nestled in the spaces between brittle ribs,
Held together by sinew and virtuous love.
These hallowed bones creak and groan
Under the weight of my devotion.

My knees dig into my lungs
As I kneel at the edge of the pew.
Reverent whispers are pulled from my lips,
spilled out in frenzied, wild streams.
They scorch my tongue and crack my teeth.

And he stands at the altar
As it crushes my heart,
Spitting his scripture with righteous conviction,
And confusing my blood for holy water.
He does not stop, even as the columns fall—
Even as my chest collapses in on itself.

And as I lay there,
Trapped beneath my faith and flesh and sin,
haloed in that vermilion holy water,
I know that I am saved.