Stain

I cannot wash you from my hands
your stain, it runs too deep
in sin and marrow
and a thousand storms
that shake the stars from sleep.

I cannot blot away your lies,
their stain upon my heart
like the sweetest balm
spilled from a chalice
that cries the night apart.

I cannot dream away your face,
its sweet stain stalks my soul
where skin comes undone
like sacrifices
and bleeds my body cold.