Roses in the shape of a cross

You laid roses in the shape of a cross on the floor by the side of my bed

Said, “tonight you don’t run from worship, you just lay down that head”

You killed every light but the candles, soft gold burning your skin instead

Whispered, “let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth,” and pulled me by the thread You climbed on my lap slow, hood up like a veil on your eyes

Opened the book to the song that lives between your thighs

Read, “thy neck is like the tower of David,” while you guide my hands up high

Tracing every line like scripture I was never taught to memorize

You breathe, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine,” on my jaw

Then drag my mouth down “thy two breasts are like two young roes,” like holy law

Say, “set me as a seal upon thine heart,” while you press down, taking it all

“If this is blasphemy, baby, let the heavens watch us fall”

Roses in the shape of a cross on the floor

You quote, “thy love is better than wine,” then beg me for more

You read, “a garden enclosed is my forever, my spouse,” at the door

Then you open like a river when I’m on all fours on the floor Roses in the shape of a cross by the bed

Your hair like “a flock of goats,” wild, all over my chest and head

You breathe, “his left hand is under my head,” as you pull me instead

“And his right hand doth embrace me,” while you ride me half‑dead

You turn the page, smile soft, thumb pressed between my teeth

Read, “thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb,” grinding on the heat

You taste like figs and wildfire, “milk and honey” when you leak

Every sigh sounds like prophecy you only whisper in the sheets You guide my mouth lower, say, “your my chosen flower,” with a grin

Then, “as the lily among thorns…,” as I sink further in

You shake when I murmur, “a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters,” on your skin

Till you’re flooding like “streams from Lebanon,” and I drown in all your sin

You quote, “let my beloved come into his garden,” fingers tangled in my hair

“And eat his pleasant fruits,” while you pull my face deeper there

You gasp, “his fruit was sweet to my taste,” like a half‑finished prayer

Moan, “I am sick of love,” but you trap me, won’t leave air

Roses in the shape of a cross on the floor

Every petal like a verse you’re tearing open with your core

You say, “I sat down under his shadow with great delight,” before

You shake, “his banner over me was love,” still begging for more

You drop the book by my side, pages open, bent and torn

Say, “many waters cannot quench love,” like you ain’t already reborn

Scratch a cross on my chest where halos used to form

Breathe, “love is strong as death,” while you ride out every storm You look back, eyes bright, sweat like stained glass

I mutter, “thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee,” as you crash

Roses in the shape of a cross on the floor

Scriptures open, candles burned down to the core