My mother buries herself in the history of her religious beliefs.

            She gains knowledge of it at anytime.

 Breathing it, living it, devouring it, becoming it.

            You too are my religion.

I watch how your jaw slackens when you chew your food,

           How, in the evening, your breath hums in my ear as you reach the peak of                 unconsciousness.

            Your wide-eyed stare, your fingers creating spider like tingles up and down my thigh.

            Your moans and groans as you entirely fill my body with ricochets of pleasure and pure, pure love.

            I breathe you, I live you, I devour you, I become you.

I love you.

I know it’s dangerous to give someone that piece of your mind, body, and soul,

But stopping, by now, is utterly pointless.

After all, you’ve seen me at my most vulnerable:

                      Naked, Chilled, in Ecstasy.

You read me like scripture and take me to heights that hikers only wish they could see.

God, you’re fucking everything!

My everything.

You’re my whole life.

My belief.

My religion.


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