The first time they call you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt The second time, you moan gospel around their fingers between your teeth They have always surprised you into surprising yourself because they’re an angel and nothing has ever felt so filthy as plucking the wings from their shoulders undressing their softness one feather at a time Goddess, if you’re out there if you’re listening, they f like a seraphim and there is no part of scripture that ever prepared you for their hands Hands that map a communion in the cradle of your hips Hands that kiss hymns up your sides They confess how long they’ve looked for a place to worship and oh, you put them on their knees when they sink to the floor and moan like they can’t help themselves you wonder if other angels fell so sweet They say their prayers between your thighs and you dig your heels into the base of their spine, until they blush the color of your filthy tongue You will ruin them and they will say thank you they will say please No damnation ever looked as cozy as this but you fit over their hips like they were made for you. You fit, you fit, you fit on top of them, you are an ancient god that only they remember and they offer up their skin. And you take it. Who knew sacrifice was so profane? Once you’ve taught them how to hold your throat in one hand and your heart in the other you will have forgotten every other word, except their name.
Looking for friends to lovers, everyone in between, be sweet
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