Holy Water

I force myself to feel unbothered,

So I sip on this holy water.

Breaking up the broken people

Who guard their guilty,

as soldiers of the night.

Blistered, calloused hands from putting pressure on their secret keepers.

As the sacred liquid drips deeper,

compartments carpeted with the whispers of deceitful stories ;

interwoven within our own narratives,

No longer holds glory.

I am catapulted into the timeline of my worst misery,

When all I sought for was some bottled company.

I tip my hat to you.

Oh broth of borrowed kindness.

Just a sip to transform into a mindless,

bumbling, fumbling tumbling crawler of the night.

So as the moon shines, she holds a torch to light

the seductive nature of my being.

Primal layers that were once

hidden and tucked,

Now lay at the bottom of an unveiling cup.