Cheap wine.
Red lights.
Say it’s sacred…

Communion in plastic cups
We spill more than we drink
Say we’re fine, say “it’s just us”
But we don’t mean what we think
Hands up like we innocent
Confessing through the smoke
Communion in plastic cups
Is it holy… or a joke?

Kitchen counter altar, bottles lined in rows
Cheap red staining everything it flows
You laugh loud but your eyes don’t glow
We both know what we don’t expose

You said, “It’s not that deep tonight”
But depth show up in subtle fights
I toast to peace, you toast to space
We clink glass just to save some face

Cross on my neck still cold
But my convictions bend and fold
Sip slow like it’s ceremonial
Call it love but it’s conditional

We don’t kneel, we just lean
On excuses dressed up clean
Say “Amen” to what we want
Ignore the parts that haunt

Communion in plastic cups
We spill more than we drink
Say we’re good, say “it’s enough”
But it’s thinner than we think
Hands up like we innocent
Confessing through the smoke
Communion in plastic cups
Is it holy… or a joke?

Midnight prayer in the bathroom stall
Water running just in case we fall
Text from you: “You still here?”
Yeah — but not how I appear

We baptize doubt in dim-lit rooms
Call it fate when it’s old wounds
Every promise half-poured out
Every “I love you” leaves some doubt

Plastic cracks if you squeeze too tight
We pretend that it’s built for life
Say it’s sacred, say it’s sealed
But pressure always gets revealed

If it’s love — it shouldn’t blur
If it’s truth — it shouldn’t hurt
If it’s grace — it should stay full
Not dissolve when nights get dull

Communion in plastic cups
No more hiding what we are
If it’s sacred, fill it up
Don’t just sip it in the dark
Hands down — no innocence
No pretending we woke
Communion in plastic cups
It’s either real… or it’s broke.

Real — or broke.
(Real… or broke.)