I softly skimmed my finger across this velvet lining
But the sweetness of this touch was not enough to keep my subtle grasp
And soon enough these digits felt comfort in a callused source
However fleeting and non assuring these textures surely felt

With every passing moment there grew an emptiness
The constant shades of confidence the crimson cloth had left
And in its veiled departure bloomed unpleasantness I couldn't shake
But this rose had never left my reach it was I that turned away

For scores of days these fingers of mine moved about in every way
Though I tried to ignore I deftly knew, the velvet glove, a step away
And in my darkest hour, that repulsiveness still unavoidably sour
Stood firm that ruby red sapphire still waiting for my sole caress

Faith enough to come back home my hand now firmly rests
The promise of this cleansing blood no reason to attest
Forever washed and sanctified, filled with joy and comfort
I write these things to you my brothers, may you never turn away