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never been too religious
never really clasped my hands in prayer
but if i was the type for supplication
it would have been for this
stranger to cathedrals and
church pews
but not divinity.
psalms whispered as kisses
and breath on neck that
makes me feel holy.

for once.

for we make sabbath
on sunday mornings
atop pillowtop mattresses when the sun
filters through blinds
casting shadows 'cross bodies

this is not about sex.

but rather,
how his chest is the most perfect
for resting weary heads
his hand
how it reaches back to find mine
how he lifts me up
with a smile
a few words
his laugh
his kiss
his touch

its just him

and sometimes my silence is confusing
and sometimes i hold my tongue
because i fear in those moments
if i begin to speak
i will tell him everything
i fear
if i open my mouth
my words will spill over like dammed water
finally unleashed

i will tell everything

how everyday
i smile when i speak his name how i believe in signs and stars and all roads that point to him him him and how some people hear violins but i heard suheirs words 'he my number 7, my east' twinned soul that complements my own and how the four of us get along quite nicely precisely when walls feel as if they are crashing in its him that lends perspective so perceptive when i'm in need. he does not carry me. instead reminds me to carry myself. everything else. i want to tell him. everything else. how beautiful he is. how i, too, believe in angels because i see them when i am with him. how i never really knew what i wanted... until he gave me everything i never thought i deserved. everything. everything. these things i want to tell

to him.

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