If by desire you mean hands, then yes,
I press into the want of it, the weight of it,
trace the shape of sin against your skin—
altar to my offering, ember to my smolder,
I crown you temptation made flesh,
anoint you forbidden and finally mine,
you best hallelujah gasped between teeth,
my blasphemy, my kneel-and-tremble, my door left unlocked.
Let me begin with a confession, end with an amen.
In between, a reckoning.
Get beneath it, meaning, the descent.
Tell me you’ll carve this night into the gospel of us,
you my bitten lip, my shattered prayer, my name spoken like a psalm.
More than the ache of longing, we are some
sanctified ruin, some sacred indulgence, some
unwritten scripture (if want then take, if take then keep).
My sin, my salvation.