Hells gates are my eyes

There has yet to be anyone that has seen the extent of my soul

The callouses on my heart

No one has been licked by the flames of my confusion and sorrow and have stayed through the heat to understand how I’m swallowed whole by conflict 

I imagine there might be no judgment from such a handsome, plain, and pure priest

as he is

But would there be love left over after succumbing the burden of my unanswered prayers, of an easier way to heaven.

So I stay here 

loving, burning, and pleading

alone.