submerged. there is a mystery
in this water, in breathing beneath
the surface of my sins. I try to believe
that two starry bodies with outstretched
arms (plus a wisp of a ghost) can become
one.
I taste this bread over and over and still
cannot find the flesh. this wine leaves
echoes of something on my tongue
that I try and pinpoint. it is not what
flows beneath the skin from heart
to temple.
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