The Shame Game

He says,
I've gotten used to
the taste of you,
the things we do.
Here I go again.
Him in my sheets,
clutching like he's
free diving straight
into Hades.
This will never be
what we want it to
be
and maybe it's best
to leave this sin
where all dirty
things happen.
He says,
You need Jesus,
we both do.
But baby, religion
is for the saints
and I'd send them
running from the
steeple.
He can keep his
guilt,
but I've got my
legs,
wide open.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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