across, a cross
i like the things that go unspoken
between you and me,
like the night we spent on the beach
lying cramped on a shitty, five-dollar walgreens towel
with another frayed over us,
and hearing the string
of intoxicated teenagers walk by and say,
they're watching the stars at night.
and no matter how much that girl,
clearly filled to her brim
with vodka as she tripped along the sand,
she spoke something more beautiful
than a van gogh painting.
we were romance, we were god,
and i know i must believe in god
because of the feeling building in my bones
when i see those "jesus saves" signs,
black with white lettering,
bordering the highway.
i feel a sense of peace
when you hum off-key to your songs
and your black truck blends with the sky.
you feel like a saviour when we're
caught in each others' arms,
but we'll only get to heaven
if we make it through the night.
and if only i could,
i would show you the scriptures
i've penned to express
the buoyancy you've rebirthed in me,