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The love within sinners

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Toenail moon

Toenail moon

When all that is holy had forsaken them they looked to each other and built their own religion

Treating their bodies like the cathedrals they couldn’t step in on their knees they prayed to a God who’d finally listen

They built a city of angels on the backs of their demons and kissed hymns along scars to the melody of freedom

From their lips broke their final confession:

“Your soul is my God your body my cathedral only in our sin could I finally heal”

Words Kate Newman Photography Christopher Filosi

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