My Sins


Doubt was the true serpent
of this I am convinced,
Eve's garden unspoiled until
the birth of uncertainty.
And now I suffer beneath the birch,
fallen prey to her fruit,
the consequences of my unfaithfulness.

Your hand, clasped,
those mischievous smiling glances
in the afterglow
as we consider dessert;
whispered devotion
I cradle in my ear,
clutching fiercely,
only to lose grip amidst
the roar of cannons.

How dare I call to question
a soul which dances
so intimately,
perfection riding shotgun,
laughing at shared absurdities
and complicated quirks
never understood so completely.

Surely even Elohim scoffed and sank,
recieving so little in return;
I, the petulant posterchild.
You, the steadfast.

Mired with inner demons,
countless insecurities,
no flog can drive out
these sins of mine.
But love unbinds,
resistance melts,
and I withdraw from hell's war.
I rise to chase life,
following your lead.

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bybeautyandwine© 5 comments/ 1544 views/ 0 favorites

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