Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Sunday confessions, deux

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Sunday,

I wake

with reverent thought.

My touch upon my skin

is my morning confessional to you.

.

Sunday,

across your lap

as you teach me new prayers

with your hands.

.

Punishment and penance

I’m on my knees in prayer

rosary between my fingers

your hands

in my hair.

.

I kneel to say my prayers

I whisper your name instead…

.

I make my confessions

one sin at a time.

.

Sundays,

when I find myself confessing

in words

instead of pictures.

.

Sunday,

a day of rituals

the holiest one of all

slowly 

divesting myself

of my clothes

as my inhibitions 

fall to the floor

with a sigh.

.

Making him devout

converting him to my religion

one naked curve

at a time.

.

You are the perfect sin

I ache to confess

but never to repent.

.

Until my next Sunday confession…

:

©SirenSong1208

Artwork by Ibrahem Swaid