Virgin Girls

There is nothing quite like the thrill    
Of doing something you’re not supposed to do 
Hiding out in the back room of a Church  
Getting lost in the heat emanating from    
Another girl's lips, bodies pressed against each other    
Static and electrified with wanting.    
   
The preachers words, a null and void buzz  
A few rooms over. It’s all a meaningless hum    
In the way her fingers wrap around my neck    
To pull me closer, and the way she trembles  
Ever so slightly as I run my fingers down her spine    
Her breath catching, as I provoke every tender nerve.  
   
Footsteps in the hallway enough to startle  
Mouths not an inch apart, as we wait  
Breaths baited, tangled in each other’s limbs  
For the opening of the door that never comes  
Sighs of relief swallowed in mouths and tongues    
To lose ourselves again in each other’s virgin promises.    
   
And Jesus watches from a cross on the wall    
Looking down at us, a silent voyeur to our passions  
Two girls curled into each other, devouring each other  
In a fire that no God could extinguish, or touch could sate    
Secret smiles at the end of the service, bright-eyed    
Like we’d felt the touch of God, when nothing could be more untrue.  
   
© Indie Adams 2012