Lips Like A Blessing

Lips Like a Blessing
A poem by the Dandy Saint

Your lips were psalms in satin red,
a prayer half-whispered, half unsaid.
You kissed me slow, the world grew still—
communion wine on window sills.

Each breath a vow, each touch divine,
forgiveness tasted just like wine.
You made a temple of my skin,
and I let every saint walk in.

Confession hummed between our teeth,
as laughter curled the air beneath;
your laughter—holy, bold, obscene—
a gospel sung in velvet sheen.

If sin is love dressed up in art,
then bless the ruin, bless the heart.
For faith was never found in fear—
it’s in the way you drew me near.

So kiss me once and make me true,
anoint my soul in shades of you.
For heaven knows—and I believe—
some miracles are meant to breathe.

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