I never really
believed in God
until I looked into your eyes
for the first time.
Because I swear
I have never seen anything
more transcendent and godlike
than the celestial firestorm
in your eyes,
when you see me, taciturn and stripped,
my body claimed yours.
Yours, since the first blaze
flickered inside you.
Despite your divinity,
you drove a saint to drink.
But maybe it was unintended;
it’s not your fault
your lips
taste like wine.