sin in search of godliness
Winter nights.
Soft lights.
The fog floating around reminiscing of the ghosts of your past.
Two souls, bared in silence.
Whispers of doubt and assurances of love,
Touching your skin with cold hands feels like sin.
But the pools of brown look like altars.
Where I worship you and continue to sin for my mortal body.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
