prayers for an absent god: sermons of a sinner

i could say that i've seen god, but truthfully i'm talking about you. as baptismal water swallows me whole, i bathe in our immorality, my impurity clings like a second skin—one that i wouldn't dare scrub away even if i could. can't you see that  i would give up everything for you?

there could never be words to describe all you are, and as my head remains filled with thoughts of you not one of them is malicious. it would be sacrilegous to betray you like that and i'll never again delve into sin. yet you'll count on the fact that i won't say stop and by forfeit only you can win, and i would give up everything for you.

you can find me in the pews, knees bruised from endless devotion, my hands clasped at my chest, pray tell if you had the chance would you kill me tonight?—or does your violence end at your bark, only i know its crueler than your bite. and even though i have scars mirroring your dentition i would give everything up for you.

and whilst you're now lightyears away, if there was any doubt you'd left your mark on me just know that once the sun's gone down my room looks the same as when it was just us two. you know i'm going to stay as far as you want me to, and you won't have to give a thing up, because i gave it all up and i'd do it again given the chance.

and yet, every sunday i'm always first through the church doors, preaching until my throat runs raw to anyone who'll listen about how i saw heaven once and that one day, i'll see it again.