Kell Futoll Poet Free verse

Confessions in the 34th Minute

I told the mirror not to answer
but it wept a name I had never spoken
yours. The one with no god,
no grave, only silence for bones.

We made chapels of each other's mouths,
your breath the liturgy,
mine the dagger.
We knelt. We undressed. We bled.

Each kiss a benediction
spilled on the floor of the forsaken.
You called me a cathedral;
I called you a ruin with holy teeth.

We carved poems on the inside of our skin
so when we died,
they'd read the rot
and say: "This was once love."

But we were never alive enough
for it to end that gently.
Only ghosts would make love
the way we did
with war
with fever
with famine
with cum.

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