January 10, 2019

I can't say exactly where this poem comes from or if it really captures a blend of situations as I wish. In the end I like how it sounds off my tongue.  That is my (singling out just one) sin.

Your Sin On My Tongue

Your sin on my tongue leaves me speechless,

Exposes my greatest weakness,

Drives me toward my unproven thesis,

That my tongue on your sin leaves traces,

Patterns of our shared spaces,

And the way we've fallen from his graces.

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There's something to be said about decay,

Moreso when it won't go away,

As our bodies bend and twist for play.

In the tensest moment words escape us,

While the drama then reshapes us

And all that coming before erases.

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My tongue and my sin fuse together,

Fusion parades as bellweather,

With exhaustion thrown in for good measure.

Stick around to hear the sinful tongue

Spout the damage that it has done,

Then settle back for the demon it sprung.