3. Prayers

i found god in him one night when i had too much liquor on my lips,

he said: i’d like to hold your frail frame in my palms
and read your tattoos like the bible

he lit a candle or two and pressed his chest against mine
‘til the wax melted down and scarlatti ran out of sonatas to recite,
‘til the sun rose through the window behind him,
holy like a halo, made him angelic –
lay in silence and pride,
‘til we couldn’t mumble any prayers no more.

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~ by Núr on April 3, 2017.

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