sparks for holy matches

I’ve had too much coffee and not enough sleep
listening to gasoline on repeat
wondering what it must be like
to be holy

I’ve still got bruised knees
from the last time
you forced me down
and asked me to kiss my way
to redemption

You’re the kind of saviour
only the four men of the apocalypse
could revere
but I love the way you hurt me
butterflying my ribs into something
beautiful

Because this pain in my chest
makes me feel live
like open heart surgery
and needles in veins
chipped nail polish
across jagged skin

I wear this floor like it was made for me
though maybe I’ve just been listening too long
to these demons in my head
that say I’m no better than this
I’m not better than the monolith of you
Lord and Saviour
of my red-mouthed sins
that taste more like blood than beauty

I need more gasoline

© Indie Adams 2016