Sunday Morning

Ghost of a touch recedes on waking

Invisibly substantial as a phantom limb

Some hearts dream paralell and others silent

Sing prayers and speak in sighs to purge the heart to save the soul

Salvation is elusive

Redemption something other

Save your soul

On a block of ice

Fresh and bloody for the wolves outside your door

Hang on cruel words like crosses

Welcome your hells and favorite torturers

Rise from the depths and live once more

In richness and sin

Until Sunday comes again

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