You believed in a God

I could never let

Myself fully believe in.

You spent your Sundays

In a stained glass prison

That haunted my

Many existential crises,

Never once thinking

That you never had to.

.

My church is the resonating silence my moonlit bedroom, blanketed in serenity.

I worship in a warm, sunlit afternoon, grinning at the open, cedar lakeside.

My bible is an acoustic-indie playlist blasting from my phone.

I worship the universe stargazing, staring into the eyes of God on my own time.

.

As often as you ask me,

I never come with you.

I do not step foot inside.

I do not sing along.

I keep my distance,

Watching with

My headphones plugged in.

.

My beliefs confuse,

Drawing inspiration

From Greek mythology,

From Biblical quotes,

From Hindu ideals,

From my own curious mind.

.

You do not ask,

And that's alright.

I don't expect you to.

You keep smiling at me,

Loving me cautiously,

Never sure if we'll meet

In your afterlife

Or mine.