poesie

heaven

i've come closer to understanding god
on a dimly lit club, at sixteen,
with bloodied knuckles and
a lover's hand on my back,
than i ever did at a church.

i've never felt holier than there,
breaking a nose and cutting my
thigh for a love i knew i'd lose
and i knew there was nothing
i could ever do about it.

'this,' i remember thinking,
'this is what sacrifice feels like'.
my left hand still hurts sometimes,
and i was never allowed into that
club ever again.