Mountains of Faith

Our story is religious.

That is to say that having you inside me is like faith.
It’s believing in what I cannot see.
It’s believing that I am a mountain.
I am the keeper of the summit you’ve been longing to scale.
I am the expedition you’ve dreamt of.
I am the impossible goal.

By this belief, I become intoxicated by our conversations.
Sipping at inspiration.
Gulping down your full-bodied thoughts.
Savouring the story of your journey.

I want to splay my life out across the floor like a 5000 piece puzzle,
And marvel as I watch you eagerly sort through the pieces.
And turn a blind eye when they are twisted and manipulated, and made to fit.

I am a mountain.
That is to say that I am to be climbed, marked by a flag and descended from.
Turned into a memory. A story to prove your masculinity.
I am a mountain and you are the seas, eroding at my shores.
Turning my ambitions into trophies of your approval.

Our story is religious, based on faith.

Faith that I instill in you when I hand over the sacred beauty of nature,
And hope you will not mine for its resources.
The trust in my belief that you will not leave the mountain range scarred by your will.

If mountains dare to melt I would hold my breath and hand you the pickaxe.
I would close my eyes and pray.
I would pray that you see more than rocks and boulders.
I would pray that your pickaxe turns into a bible.
I would pray that we can both be saved.

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