God Was A Woman Last Night

She kissed him like sin,

like a prayer,

like she was teaching him something

holy.

He fell to his knees

like all good boys do,

hands gripping her hips

like an altar,

like his salvation.

She let him worship her.

Deep down she kind of likes it.

Let him press his mouth to her skin,

let him pray in the language

of teeth and tongue,

let him believe she was something

he could keep.

But dawn came,

and so did she,

and now all he has left

is the taste of her name

on his lips.