I made a religion out of you.
I prayed to you each night. Wont you be mine, and only mine?
I walked barefoot around
You, afraid to disturb your peace.
Inside my storm was swirling and cycling, but
I didn’t want you to hear it.
Each time my toe touched the floor around you,
I winced. Wont you be mine, and only mine?
I was yours, in all I did.
I felt guilty if I forgot to think of you
With one breath. Blowing out the air, and sucking it back in,
And flooding my head with thoughts of you
As if it could absolve me. I made a religion out of you.
I wrote letters, books and poems in your honour.
Reciting them before I sleep, after I cried,
While we kissed.
Wont you be mine and only mine?
I was yours.