In the softest voice I can muster and the biggest garden I can digest
Last midnight my breath crawled back into my chest and I was without a doubt paralyzed by my own humility
These gestures stood as lessons of both yeast and bread
As if the smell of God can only be found on the skin of sinners
And under the fingernails of saints
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
In the softest voice I can muster and the biggest garden I can digest
Last midnight my breath crawled back into my chest and I was without a doubt paralyzed by my own humility
These gestures stood as lessons of both yeast and bread
As if the smell of God can only be found on the skin of sinners
And under the fingernails of saints
