Love, Poetry and Fingerprints

She was a fountain of sin

Turned the heads of the village kings
Like how the bees lusted over nectar
But her soul mate found comfort in other men
All the priests prayed for a moment with her,
The rebirth of a fallen seraph in whose bosom they minded not to fall
As they drooled from the tiny hole to the confession booth
where she sat every Sunday dawn drenched in regrets
As she made known the sins of yester night
An outburst of tales that haunt her at sleep

Little mind did they offer to her pleas
As she implored the heavens to save her
Rather they had ample time to unclothe her of all the fabrics that covered what remained of her skin
Up and down they travelled the cracks of her body,
Some were on a pursuit to see her come undone
While only one was on quest to save her broken soul

They pledged to adulate her commands
like how the stars worshiped the moon
but she needed only one man to leave his fingerprints on her shattering skin
Even the sincere one could not take the place of the love of her life
though she knew he was out of her reach
he lived beyond what she ever could be able to offer

They all came clothed in falsity
Uttering promises of eternity
Promising to mend her shattered glass of faith
Promising her serene nights
Like how the sun obliged to the authority of the darkness at nightfall
But she needed one man to serenade her ache with rhymes of poetry
What tragedy it was that the love of her life found slumber in Adam's bosom