Shattered Glass Communion

Under dim neon halos,
you bloom like a hymn unsung—
fingers tracing wounds beneath silk night.
Your breath—
a slow confession against my throat,
fragile as static in the dying glow.

We fracture in rhythm,
whispers stitched in digital decay—
soft limbs bound to echoes,
pale prayers lost in smoked-out sanctuaries.

I wear your name like venom on the tongue,
a sacrament of ache and surrender.
You carved me open—
left the altar empty—
but still,
I kneel.