Ye of Little Faith

I walk into the hallway
to see you leaning against a row of lockers.
I like how you do your hair,
the color of your eyes,
and how your expression always seems
“Devil May Care.”

The devil may
begin to want we have
because though I do not
even know your name,
the wind’s chill still runs through me
and the thought of your icy fingers
climbing up on my spine
calls for adrenaline

Back pressed into cinder block walls
lips hinged to my neck
and hot blood,
warm blood,
easily confused for
drunk love
races through my veins.

If this is sin,
if this is strange,
maybe it’s because you’re thinking
too hard when all I
need is a body
your body
to be my saving grace


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