I recall the very first time you held me. I didn’t want you to. I was jaundiced and you were gold, so I permanently diverged you of evitable contact. I couldn’t stain you. Without consent, I felt the warmness of your exhale on my chest. There, I was baptized.
And to deny God is to deny we’ll meet once more.
© Copyright 2016 Angela Teixeira. All rights reserved.
Book / Non-Fiction
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