let me run my mouth through your curly black hair
i want to touch the marinara on your lips

wait—let me say this first—
i have cut off the skin that damned
you to hell—i have rubbed it off
with a stone

forgive my decisions, i had the eyes of a child—
and remember, for a short while, even Bob
Dylan believed in christ

every time i see you, i'm back on the cross, please
bring me down—stay for just a little more than a couple seconds

and before i walk away, ask me to come with you.