Heretics

Tue, 05/02/2017 - 16:47 -- Rae.Fen

There are no atheists in Foxholes

We knew that; we were summoning the fire gods

Rituals consisting of your fingers deftly tracing my thighs

And I breathing prayers into your neck

 

Abandoning doctrine and shirts

Letting them fall to the ground, inconsequential

But I was unprepared to make the proper sacrifices

Knowledgeable, yet naive to what really was required

Fallen from grace, but not yet drowning in the hazy land

Ruled by lust and biology

Belonging nowhere

 

Leaving only the taste of guilt and poison in my mouth

And dissatisfaction in your hands

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741