I worship her body—it’s a temple under my knowing gaze—
an altar beneath my wagging tongue—a god to my meager self.
I sing my praises in-between her thighs—her moans my echo.
Confessional happens at night behind closed doors.
It’s heaven, being alone with her. The way she arches
her body to me is better than any scripture.
Her soft gasps and needy cries of my name are better
than any angelic choir promised during Mass.
Seeing her face as she comes to her climax, is
more beautiful than the face of God himself.
Basking in the afterglow with her is sweeter
than any religion—any promise of eternal life.
She is my religion—my promise for eternal life.
About the Creator
Allison Jones
My name is Mary Allison Jones and I'm currently a Junior Writing major at West Virginia Wesleyan College in Buckhannon, WV. My track is poetry, and I'm a poet by trade. I also dabble in short fiction. I live with my fiance and our two cats.
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