#yaaayyyyy asexuality poems with religious themes yaaaayyyyy

[ace-and-ink]

i spend the night feeding off your warmth in bed

never naked but never clothed

i would rather slaughter what remains of my dignity

than soil this body that is less a temple

more a bunker

i make a wish on every breath that leaves

your mouth

and most of them are me

begging that you’ll take another

you don’t know but i ask you every hour

if this is really where you wanna be

if this is as much your garden as it is mine

do you really love laying with a woman

as you would a man?

does sharing the bed with one like me

not make you dream of the stones

they would throw?

i waste so much moonlight

talking to your back

just asking if you know you can leave

waiting for the one day when

you get up from your fake sleep

grab your coat and your shoes and your keys

and keep the lights off as you walk out

into the night like i

all but plead for you

to do

in the morning i throw myself at your feet

like i still believe that praying does anything

i clutch your ankles and i become cain

to my own instincts

i shed a tear for every sin i’ve committed

two for every one i didn’t know

the witching hour knows this scene better than

the witches know the fire

sunrise to your back, you could be

something holy

but you have hands and a voice

softer than paul, though you talk to me

the same

locusts in my gut leave me nauseous

you can’t lead me to salvation

but would you let me follow you

through the sea you part?

take me a little closer to the light?

i don’t need a kingdom

but you bring heaven to me and i still

wonder why

in the afternoon i cling to you

like a sinner’s guilt

like my clothes to my back

when realistically i know i should shed them

how can we be lovers if i never do?

how can i be a believer if i never read scripture?

i can preach all i please - telling you

how much i love you and how

you make my world go ‘round and there

must be something out there because it

gave me you - but does it

really count if we never

let dirty hands run over holy words?

is it not enough to covet the book covers

to refuse to open them and claim

we don’t want to ruin it and its holiness?

i preach my sermon to you again and i can’t

figure out if i’m your priest or if you’re mine

because when i finish mine you give me

yours

in the church of your apartment i know that

habit will draw us to the altar of your bedroom

and instinct will pull us to the sanctuary of your bed

i know communion follows the word

you drank the red wine blood

i always chose to not but i can

smell it on your breath and your skin

and after the wine comes the consumption

of the flesh

of the body

how can i challenge the decree

made divine by perpetuation

and deny you the heaven you seek?

after all, aren’t i supposed to

crave the salvation it should bring me?

but we wander there and you close the door

you push the boulder to seal my tomb

but when we lay you leave me untouched

you watch me with a smile and the only

way you handle me is with the care of a shepherd

looking over his last little lamb

and when we go to bed that’s truly all you do

you leave me spared as you promised

but that leaves me vulnerable

and i sit and watch you like a guardian angel

but i spend all night wishing and watching

and feeding off your love like

i need it to live (i do)

like i need you to survive (i need you too)

— as god intended