I bathed my body, in Holy Basil, and Lavender,
on the day that you arrived.
I laid, on the path to my body, and mind,
cobbled stones, and holy incense,
to rich the air about it, thus–
with splendor, and with charm.

I sanctified this body,
I sanctified my moon,
not to cleanse it for a lover,
but to bring it to commune–
with the spirit, and the heart,
thus, to cleanse it from itself;
I cried into its soil,
to save it from its hell.

Purging all;
its sins and lies,
all that plagued it, bare;
I cried into its blackened skies,
to save it from your snare.

I prepared myself for you,
like an offering, holy;
to be treated in fear,
to be treated in chaste;
but desecrated was I,
at the temple of our lust,
desecrated, but willing, in love.

I prepared you,
in my mind as worthy;
of holding this body,
of feeling this love,
how naïve, how fickle,
the ends of these thoughts.

You weren’t the person I thought I expected,
you weren’t the man I was told of before;
In hindsight, however,
I wasn’t told of you, as much as I was told of me,
and thus I’ll forgive, for I was wrong about both.

You were my first,
and though I did not say it,
my body told me that you knew.
For when we became one,
our lights cried,
our bodies shone,
as they became one.