Three words remained unsaid,
In twinkling eyes and coy smiles,
In feather light touches or intertwined fingers,
In fifteen minutes walks or week long vacations.
Violent desires remain buried
within the pink of their cheeks,
within the lumps in their throats,
and in the excited beating of hearts
Only to never be said aloud
as crosses cannot mix with holy beads,
sacred threads don’t match gold rings,
and Amen and Om cannot coexist.