You created a religion
that first time I heard you laugh.
You built a temple in me and
wrote your holy book, paragraphs
with every glance you threw in my direction.

I do not believe in a God,
I mean I did,
no
I didn't.
It doesn't matter.
For we were both lost bastardssinnersrefugee's looking for a place we could call home, I found one in you, you in me.
We prayed in a silence that only a
mute would dare hear,
we had that silence that monks meditated, for.
Your eyes, I could not stand to be the object of;
for they were so deep and I,
too short to stand in them.

Our churchbodymind has fallen now,
for you are too far to travel
and
for you believe in the sun, moon and the tree's.

And I, imperfections and insanity