He breaks into my hands
like dusk,
after a scorching afternoon
I hold him,
fixing what is left
of a masterpiece
noone ever understood.
he sighs a hundred names
of Gods I have long lost belief in,
so when I tell you I worship him
you can call it paganism.
I love you sometimes, he says
and I have never loved myself
but God, I love him so much
I forget what hating myself feels like.