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