OUR GODS

 We soak almonds in honey 

You ask me the name of God I pray to 

And I tell you fifty thousand names of him while your finger tips search for mummified hope in our cellar. 

The cross word puzzle in our sofa we forgot to complete looks at us with half opened eyes 

I ask about your God and you tell me something about the black mole on my right elbow. 

You look at my diary and see ink blots in red and blue, a Rochester test 

I forget my sanity and kiss you in mouth tasting all the dandelions and stars 

We put our fears in bed singing a lullaby in hushed tones, storing each memory in our lungs so that we can breathe after we are no longer together. 

This is when you tell me how our God's are different just like the colour of our eyes 

And I look at the cracks of ceiling when you leave through the door you once entered with that stupid smile 

The crushed cherries glow in sympathy while I still dream of you taking your abode in my umbrella eyelashes 

In the night the dolls come to life and I finally cry. 

Apparently our Gods are biased.

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