Singing Your Praises

 I am singing your praises
Like a bird born in a cage
Who thinks the bars are there to keep things out
And will never know the truth
And doesn’t want to

I am kissing you
Like a whore being paid
But who still
Enjoys it

I am asking you questions
And believing your lies
Like a child in Sunday school
Told that God has no mother
And beaten for asking

I am yearning for you
As if I had a right
To feel this way
After so much time has passed

Some semblance of morality
Keeps me constrained
Keeps me from finding you
Hunting you
Loving you

I want to open up your soul with a knife
Just to see what it looks like
Just to see if it’s the same color as mine
And if the hues don’t match
I will sew it back up again
Imperfectly