Poem: seeing double

note: making it up as i go... as we all do.
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It was a sight to make you believe in heaven,
in angels cascading down the treble clef in harmonium,
in absolution from petty sins and doubts.

But you didn't notice them at all,
and you're the one who believes in such a place,
not me with my heathen gods.

Sometimes it seems this peace is attainable,
in moments of warmth and clouds,
when there's no need to speak.

But the fact is that heaven seems too quiet,
too devoid of the life of this city,
where hell is somehow home.