I've decided, firmly -
Today, a year later from when I knew you;
A year later from when I cried...
That I don't want religious *****.
Now hold on - I know how that sounds.
"This ***** is gonna castrate me!
Or something," is what you probably said.
Don't worry, little altar boy.
I only use my machete for garden snakes
In my two inch back yard.
The nerve, the gall, the gumption,
To tell me in the sweetest way possible
That you'd prefer a subservient house wife.
You couldn't even tell me to my face -
It was second hand knowledge,
Passed along to me by my stoner co-worker.
I bit the pink marker and ****** it dry of ink.
The False god stopped sending you love letters.
I'm not entitled to anyone's love, and especially not yours.
You came into my life like a bullet,
Which through the lenses of rose-colored glasses
Looked like a gentle butterfly.
The Cosmos - she was looking out for me.
She's seen too many limp men like you,
And saved me with the gravitational pull of the moon.
So once again,
For those in the back,
Who were too busy wooing Joshua Harris:
******* and your christian *****.
Still not sure if this is too scandalous for HePo, but I figured I'd give it a shot. Critiques welcomed!