It wasn't a sin to love you,
only when I tried to let go.

Didn't listen to the passages
saying we burn from lust 
and these fleeting fires don't 
make a difference in the end.

Can't take the flame with you
after we say goodbye here.

I'll still forever carry with me 
the rush in one cold dark night,
the hush of your body opening
to enfold me in human warmth,
into a clenching core where 
I would never be the same again.

We didn't have a name for it,
like a touch in the deep dark,
we only knew the feeling.

And it wasn't a sin to love you.

I never held the passages
saying we burn from lust
and these fleeting fires
are supposed to always
mark us for all to see.

But I don't believe in those letters worn
or the stones we squeeze blood from,
we can't take that pain with us 
after we say goodbye to here.

I'll still forever carry with me 
the way I moved in you 
in the rush of a cold dark night
and I know you'll carry it, too,
the hush when bodies open 
and we can never be the same again.

We didn't have a name for it,
like hearts pressed together with
concussive beats in the dark
like some learned echolocation,
we only knew how to reach out.

And it wasn't a sin to love you.

I'll forever carry with me
the way your fingertips met 
and hushed my parting lips
before I could say that I've never 
been comfortable in my own skin
but am entirely at home within yours
and I'd never be the same again.

We didn't have a name for it
but you already seem to know everything,
you still found a way to blossom
against my heart's dark backdrop
like nocturnal flowers drinking in moonlight
and it's something I'll always be grateful for.

We only knew how to reach out.

And that was never a sin.