for all your life, you’ve known sin
but never like this - not like the craving
to know how his mouth might taste against yours;
your vices come in variations
of wine and blood,
his hidden dreams behind silver teeth.

they call you a snake, and you know
too well temptation -
your own two hands clasped tightly in prayer
remind you not of sanctification,
but of his thin frame pressed so close
to yours
that not even air could intercede.

he is godless and you are godly -
yet for all the hours you have spent
knelt in Sunday prayer
your only epiphany came when sunlight
fell across his face, and you understood
why lucifer fell.