Bad Poetry

New Religion

You abandon Jesus

and play dress up

In front of the window

Decide the clothes look better off

But keep your rosy cheeks

and your lacey underwear

Close your eyes

and dance in the warmth of the sun

It’s spotlight just for you

and you touch yourself

and remember you’re not an angel

But you do touch yourself

in the most innocent way, 

Your hands massaging your arms

Your face rolling into your collarbone

Your fingers tickling your hair

Feel how soft you are

This is what people feel

This is what people see

When they touch you

When they look at you

When they’re looking at you wishing they were touching you

When they’re touching you wishing they were looking at you

and if you’re lucky enough,

if they’re lucky enough,

if you’re both lucky enough,

maybe they’ll touch,

and look at you at the same time

and this,

the warmth,

the dancing,

the touching,

the seeing,

the being,

this is your religion now

You abandon Jesus, 

and this is your religion