i can feel breath against my neck
as he whispers to my bruises,
"do you love me?"

and i say "yes" but it's a
lie.

this is just a bone-deep lust
that shakes me to my core,
a ceaseless wanting for
the whore angel who has
stolen my heart.

i live in a myriad of
self-delusion and self-mutilation,
and he is the cause of it all.

he tastes like falling stars
& hurricanes, he tastes like
heaven bleeding sin; and
i crave it. i crave
his skin against mine,
his lips whispering
blasphemy into the corner of my smile.

he says i remind him
of the Whore of Babylon.

(sometimes i think i'm
not the only one having
a crisis of faith.)