rockstar prayers

he tasted like cigarettes and holy water
and his youth cried out my name,
whispered sweet cynicism in my ear like gospel
his lips were stained in wine and dripping with unholy promise
and i could tell they were used to uttering rockstar prayers
that would fool you into confessing
but i couldn’t tell you what the heavens looked like that night
or even if the stars disappeared
when i was writing hymns in the dark
about sins i thought i didn’t know
and i realized i’d never truly understood the romance of sacrilege
until that moment

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