Picking up the pieces of my broken faith
My heartbeat faintly whispers to my fingers, my feet,
“Someone, somewhere needs a Friend like you did”.
Entirely dismissive, annoyed and too often,
Begrudgingly employed,
I acknowledge the obvious end,
the greater Good collecting dust,
The Highest of High,
who I call,
Healer.
Tonight,
alone but
drowning in
polluted,
shallow,
powdered sugar
I squealed when the girl asked the boy,
“stay with me, heal me...”
and convinced him
with. a. kiss.
I know better
I live better...
right?
Nope.
And as I shut my screen,
Their embraced lips tattooed along my eyelids,
I don’t even notice how far away
Our true Healer is
from my
easily-entertained,
attention-hungry
heart.
These meager rations
leave my soul’s bones barren,
begging
to say those words
in a state of vulnerability
to Creator Friend,
forever
my Guy.
This truly
lack-lusting,
Intimacy-here-than-waning,
Melodrama inducing
Blood-racing, breaths-increasing
drama
is suddenly too sweet.
Picking up the pieces of my broken faith
My heartbeat faintly whispers to my fingers, my feet,
“Someone, somewhere needs a Friend like you did”.
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