Get Your Premium Membership

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.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things