Take me to church where the broken bells ring,
I’ll worship in the ruin of every sin that I cling.
Baptize me in thunder, let the storm be my choir,
I’ll kiss the feet of silence where your ghost still spires.
My lover’s skin is scripture, each scar a sacred psalm,
We bleed like resurrection on the altar of our calm.
If heaven won’t hold us, then hell can have its turn—
I’ll bow to dirt and darkness for the grace of your return.