Holy Ghosted
You got a habit vanish, then reappear
Preaching in riddles, then poof disappear
A priest with no parish, a faith with no proof
You speak in confessions but dodge every truth
I lit up the altar, I opened the door
You left your robe but not what it’s for
Fast with the scripture, slow to commit
Saint with a side chick, sermon ain’t it
You holy ghosted, vanished like sin
Then came back knockin’ like, “Baby, I’m in.”
But I don’t do rituals with boys in disguise
Or cross my heart for recycled lies
You kiss with verses, then fast like it’s Lent
Play humble and hungry, but I know you’re bent
You think I’m the pew you return to and kneel?
I’m the storm in the stained glass, not part of your deal
So bless your pattern, habit and all
But next time you vanish, don’t bother to call
I found my religion in mirrors and smoke
And learned not to worship where promises choke
Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2025
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