To hold your hand, to taste your skin
To love you, they claimed, was my first sin.

For you are my heaven, my breath, my song,
Yet to love you feels both right and wrong.

The weight of faith and fear collide,
In a heart that aches but cannot hide.

But my parents wait where the angels dwell,
And I fear this love will lead to hell.

But if I must lose you to see their face,
Would heaven not feel an empty place?