top of page

Love is Religion

by Chinonso Oguh

My body is an unholy thing marked with the sin of existence.

I could look to the skies and pray for forgiveness,

but me and God do not get along since I stopped believing.

Sainthood is not a weight I carry on these shoulders.


Falling in love is its own kind of worship.

The solemn reverence of her head bowed over mine,

and I kneel before her, prayer on my lips

like I am a sinner and she is something holy.


There’s a cry of hallelujah as two bodies merge in perfect time

sins laid out and forgotten, a private confession.

My passions overflow to decorate the halls of her temple

and voices echo reminding us where true love lies.


Her hands burn with holy light enough to save me.

In the arms of my lover, I will recreate heaven

forming a paradise where our lips can touch.

I craft her halo with illusions of holiness.


Two souls come together forming the base of my religion

where the crooks of her body are my sanctuary.

Entangling so close our hearts beat as one

makes me believe in something again.


Her thighs are my altar of holy worship.

Words of her breathless sermon light a fire in me

burning only in places she can see.

Hips carving out the paths of our ancient pilgrimage.


My last act of love will be to run away with her

before she falls choking on her own divinity.

bottom of page