I think i believe in god now. Not as an overbearing presence or a silver-bearded man sat upon clouds dictating my every move but i think i have found meaning the idea of a greater power.

I don't know how we end up drenched in cold september rain every time we go out but i think its a sign. Of what i'm not yet sure but i know the way your eyes lit up the last time i saw you was the work of an angel.

I swear i reached heaven when my heart jumped out of my chest and into your hands, metaphorically of course since your hands explored my skin, i was beside you and i think i lost track of where blanket met boy because your warmth replaced mine and my god did it feel good.

I'm not juliet and you're no romeo but maybe our lips can do as hands do one day, and maybe i can reach enlightenment or like hold your hand or something.

I think about why people pray as i lie in bed synthesizing you out of blankets and no amount of ******* pillows can make every hair stand on end like you. My thighs miss your hands and their melodic movements and trails of fire and i miss the sound of your heart and how fast it was beating and i wonder if you could hear mine too from across the room.

I hope heaven looks a lot like that room, as this one is hell and someone turned up the heat.