Frankly, if our bodies are a temple, you are a small country church waiting for a tornado.
But I have grand aspirations for you.
I forced your hands into a steeple, pressing them together between my own.
Last night, while at a friend’s DC art show being hosted in a small hipster antique furniture shop, I came across a green vinyl kneeling bench. It’s the kind of piece you’d find in an older home, in front of a small alcove with a statue of the Virgin Mary and some lit candles.
It made me think of you, and how I wanted you.
And let’s be honest. The distance between what I want and where you will find yourself is not so very vast.
Which is why you were kneeling in front of me, hands clasped in steepled prayer.
I was going to build a better church.
Starting with you.