Our Sins Taste Like Holy Water

A cycle of poems «You Taught My Hands How to Pray on Your Body»

Whispers in the dark, we fall apart, 
Broken pieces of a shattered heart. 

We’re dancing on the edge of fire, 
Burning with a fierce desire. 

Our sins taste like holy water, 
Washing pain but making it harder. 
Falling fast but feeling alive, 
In this chaos, we survive. 

Shadows hide the scars we wear, 
Silent screams fill up the air. 
Lost in lies we can’t undo, 
But I’m still breathing next to you. 

We’re dancing on the edge of fire, 
Burning with a fierce desire. 

Our sins taste like holy water, 
Washing pain but making it harder. 
Falling fast but feeling alive, 
In this chaos, we survive. 

If redemption’s just a fleeting ghost, 
Then let’s embrace what hurts the most. 
Every fault and every scar, 
Makes us who we really are. 

Our sins taste like holy water, 
Washing pain but making it harder. 
Falling fast but feeling alive, 
In this chaos, we survive. 

In broken faith we find our way, 
Our sins will guide us day by day.