©2018 The Magnificent Musings.

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Stained Glass

the girl with a purple tongue and purple lips,

believed in God but gave Him up quick

years of raising that cup to her lips

had stained her.


but that late evening

when she first learned

wine could be full,

not bitter,

far from sickly,

she marveled.

though she knew

blood was not meant to be sweet.

blood was meant to pay a price.


a price raised

with every wicked thought,

touch,

late at night

breathing heavily but quietly.

careful just in case

the words

“oh god.”

truly did raise

above her head.


though she was uncertain

and for close to two years

wine had not made her think of God.

it made her think of a lowercase him.

a him who made her skin prickle

and her mind race

to the lines of his neck

and the parts of a face

you never recognize

till it’s found in the one

you think you love.


it was a consuming love.

a love which absorbed her thoughts

at times when it should not of.


like when her knees

were deep in a pew,

her eyes closed,

face solemn,

creating a facade of prayer.


still she practiced

a love which drained her

under the pretense

of a faith which

required inaction

which wasn’t really faith at all.


prayers made her left-hand ache

as she pressed it into her right

and convinced herself

lowercase him

was thinking of her too.


there was no presence of God

despite the burning red candles

which never flickered,

always too steady to truly

believe in.

this was faith lost.

faith replaced by a lover.


a love which ended up cheap,

though she had tried

to raise the price.