Chipped nails and a bleeding heart,
She sleeps alone,
Waiting for her lover to come home.
She tears at her skin,
Hoping that maybe now he’ll walk back in.

Waist too big,
**** not tight,
Her lover got bored with the same flavour every night.
Too familiar with the small dip of her waist,
Too familiar with those same low moans,
Same generic brown eyes,
Those two ***** that just didn’t bounce right,
Too familiar with the way she wraps her legs around his waist
Too familiar with the way she tastes.

So he left…

And with him, he took her.

The rich fled from their churches,
their faces flushed
The poor remained in the parks
with the birds squawking at their feet

Blood, fabric, hymns- clashes of humanity with art
When asked about the past, the bravest would utter,
Holy water couldn't save me, all the priests saw me in the flood

So the wind prompted,
Whisper to the deities of troubles, the paradises, the wars;
hear them shiver

When the authorities passed by
the laity revealed,
They told us to confess that we were wicked in nature, sinners from birth but we always liked the thought of innate good

-c.j.