His hand runs down my thigh.
My prayers have been answered.
I bow before Him, longing to taste ambrosia and sin.
I beg before Him, longing to be let in.
He smiles that godly smile,
He laughs that mighty laugh,
His voice sounds like the angels:
“Come to me, Fire, and burn it all down.
Burn complacency to the ground.”
And so I burned the school around us
And so I burned the wife he never loved
And so I burned his thankless children
And so I burned the small town we hated
And so I burned his little house up on the hill
And so I burned and burned until it was only us left in the world—
His holy hands tangled in my hair.
My skin burning against His.
Smile upon His lips and in His kiss.
My hands against His raging heart.
His soft, grand voice in my ear:
“I think I might love you.”
Against His warm neck, my gentle reply:
“I think I might too.”