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Why does it feel so holy to sin?
I'm on my knees again father. But the sounds from my mouth are not words of prayer.
It's Sunday morning and my rosary lay in their box. Instead I lay with her, my hand in her hair.
The sun lights her skin and as she opened her eyes that's when I knew. Through condemnation I found my salvation.
I've found heaven in her touch. A heaven that feels far more beautiful.
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YOU ARE READING
~ HUMAN INTROSPECTION ~
Poetry~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ A collection of poetry and philosophical questions made to question the relations and views we have of ourselves and others. I encourage readers to explore themselves and allow their thoughts to run unfiltered while reading. I hope...
