Feelings,
Shown—

Feelings,
Grown.

I can’t help but to
                                fall in awe
                                                   with her
                                                             ­      idyllic astonishment;

like how the moonbeam shines its ray
to lit up the darkened night sky
amongst all the unrest souls in their
                                                           ­     (not so)
                                                             ­                  blissful slumber.

I beg your pardon, m'lady—
for I have mistaken your
                                              b e a u t y
                                                               ­    for
                                                             ­      Misconstrued Paraselene.

Eating every petal,
tasting falsehoods
               of what they meant.

Every thorn crushed in
our last meal,
           hoping shards
cut deeply on the misconstrued
                 hope you would ******* pain.

Unload your vetted earnings
    in the collection baskets,
small price to pay 
    for holy water's kickback,
God thundered an indignant snort
    'pon gold filled prospered coffers      
within corporate excesses                 
   of enriched gaudy churches
wondering when HIS word
  had begotten misconstrued
     in clergy's interpretations
      of powers' self-aggrandizement
       and pontificating gratification;

whilst the huddled masses
    were starving midst the pews

This was never meant to hurt you.
It was a simple miscommunication,
a stumble of words.
"Words" can be so easily misspelled to say "swords,"
and swords can impale.
I suppose words can, too.