Not that you could guess this by looking into
my innocently laughing eyes, bright blue and
wide with the wonder of your every word,
You'd have to look past a girl who has become
the best of everything anyone ever wanted
for her,
Maybe I am scorching for you to press me
against this mossy place, this sacred place,
full of thistles and pine,
Perhaps I could skim just the very surface of
your fathomless carnality, entangling myself in you just for a time,
How could you ever know? I have hidden my authentic
self under prettiness and prayer, nails scratching
from beneath the surface,
Even saints need to sin sometimes,
Touch me in that mossy place and we will go down together. |