#stpoetry

i watch your hands. they shake when you speak— not from fear of being heard, but from the fear of being misread.

has your skin ever felt like it finally belonged to you?

or are you only an imposter rattling inside your own ribs?

let me lick your sins until they taste of me. pulled from the brink of borrowed divinity,

desire carved into your flesh, scripture forged in heat. what spills, i take— sacrament resting on my tongue.

let me worship the deepest ache hidden from every borrowed god, the one you bury deepest, the one that still burns.

i’ll rip the prayers from your lips, drag them out raw, from the hollow where devotion shatters and shame turns violent.

i’ll take every fractured breath and twist it into litany, force your longing into form until it trembles like truth.

i bear witness to your eternal radiance as if your very soul had been stitched with stardust

you rip surrender from my lips and through your hands you make it holy

you whispered my name it sounded like benediction my devotion remains loud in these dark-soft hours

my desire is a constant hum threatening to scream written only for you