God 
– whatever you are,
take me.
Take me for what I am, but mostly for what I am not.
Stretch marks, common eyes, half-pure heart,
I am yours.
You abandon yourself in everyone’s arms 
once all you have to lose is unpredictable. 
A Waltz of precariousness, a taste of lust for life
But you can take me, I am yours:
I am yours with life in my hands,
I am yours failing my plans.
A part of me in dying
and all I do is calling the tears
my eyes are still hiding.
My hands, my skin, my breath
is nothing compared 
to the innocence of a broken pearl,
the power of an army of stone.
You can never really fix a heart 
but in the deepest dark,
now I bless the body of my own:
A sanctuary emerged from a cemetery.