Passage My sermons were packaged pretensions of being porcelain Like carefully crafted china dolls and Meissen figurines on mantelpieces Rehearsed catechisms served as reminders, or remainders Of the miniature morsels of myself, monotonously recycled like paper. Other nuns said confusion was collapsing my cathedral of chastity While setting skies were draped with palpable black scarves I ceased to be cloistered or covered in monastic clothing, picturing Peace in using pectoral creams while with whores wearing Wonder-bras or silicon implants like believable, seductive substitutions. Steeples as sharpened pencils penetrated what was labeled as prestigious passages Their pushed out penises didn't pay to probe my programmed patterns And semen wasn't script or controlled calligraphy from fountain ink but Traced stencil lettering engraved and scattered across my bare body Bathed in blood emerging from hymens no longer unhampered or unhindered Bruises remained where regret and repentance had cut like razors. Fingers tainted with the hue of hushed trysts on tiled floors were really Cluttered corridors of my mind failing to forget the fragments of a lost oath Our hemispheres collided and underwent continental shifts the night I conceived Gestures altered the geography and the texture of the topography of our terrain. Gothic pillars were glass prisms refracting crimson morning and holes in Comforters showered remembered springtime scents and kisses as we had made love I ripped apart blankets of indecency and indiscretion with vengeance and grief While hearing the thunderous trundle of your heels scrape against the layers of my heart.Birth sign: Not entered
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