No Capito

When the clouds rolled in

over mountain tops and lush hills

I forgot myself

or rather, I forgot whom I wished to be.

When the clouds rolled in

covering sun and blue sky,

smiting my smile,

I gave lust a try.

In the fog and in the night

in the cobbled alleys between foreign lives

I walked with you under streetlights

following an ancient vice of mine.

You didn’t sweep me off my feet,

but I wished you would try.

You glanced at me with conceited eyes,

I invited you inside

where the rain pattered on the window

as a reminder of the clouds

that covered my good sense,

and excused my poor decisions.

Whatever gentleness could be found in the night

was drowned by our sin

as I seethed and screamed,

“gently, softly, tenderly.”

You did not understand beyond the barriers of foreign words,

My need to be loved slowly,

Desired completely,

Adored sweetly.

“No Capito”

The honest words you say to me.

When you left,

inflated with a prideful sense

of success after conquest

I was alone on the tainted mattress.

The room that my anger had filled

smelled of firewood, cum, and disdain.

clouds over mountains

hid me from God’s grace,

smothered my beliefs.

I took my fears in my own hands.

I didn’t feel shame

but guilt was waiting, expectantly,

for me to meet him and confess:

I am, admittedly,

an imperfect sinner

a shadow of who I was

and who I could have been

before the clouds rolled over me.