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Call me a heretic to the godly name of love. I believed myself forsaken to its kind embrace, to the blessings it spoke of with soft lips to everyone but fell dead on my ears.
As of now, I know only of one religion: You.
Many fake pilgrims have walked into your life claiming to worship you but there is true devotion in the convert. Where they blindly spouted love for love’s sake, I was hard won, my soul rejected the embrace of love and yet when I came to know you, I flung myself onto the bed and knew with a whispered heart that I had been converted. The closest I ever came to the Godliness was when I laid myself bare against the temple of your body, only knew worship when you pressed kisses on my forehead, knew forgiveness when i struck out in anger only to be received with gentleness. There was a time when if I knew of heaven, I’d let it burn just to feel something. Now, I’d give myself to the pyre to know the taste of your salvation again. Angels come in a high bun, three day old stubble, a lip piercing and dark moons under the eyes from gaming till 3:00am. I wish I could capture the God in you.
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nice. hopefully they appreciate you.
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