Young Eucharists

Of all the tender taut and innocent

Sacraments I've tangled with

Celibate or seldom split

Separate as which was writ

Chaste in desperate ways

And raised of fitful faiths

Patience praised and grace ordained

In face of these latter days

But what such traces must remain

Of a phase lately lain to waste

And what such fates we two betray

As your sacred legs gave way

As sure as you are pure my love

A touch of blood and so it's done

And though we spoke in tongues my love

Would surely not send from above

All the slender soft and supplicant

Sacraments I've sinned against

As if in which I might relive

Your sanguine skin or sins therein

Yut prides and tithes aside if you must

But faith has nothing left for us

In stolen moments as such as this

By which I have placed my trust but

Grace has no such place for us anymore oh

As sure as they were pure my love

I've chased of us in everyone

And though I know all fates succumb my love

What sanctifies my swollen sum

But the tender taut and innocent

Freckled flesh I've tampered with

Supped and split or suffered through

Whod vainly take this place of you

Young Eucharists - Parenthetical Girls