With folded hands, I’ve reached my limit. Sending words to a being I never believed in seems to be my only option now. I’m so desperate for an answer, desperate for some kind of flashing neon sign that will point me in the right direction.

We’ve been falling apart. It’s ironic how falling can be such a lovely thing and yet such a tragic thing. What a word. Spiraling. That’s more like it. This seemingly never-ending merry-go-round that we’ve been riding, trying to test the limits of time.

I am trying to put the brakes on falling out of love with you. I’ve screeched the tires and am reaching for the emergency brake. So, with hands clenched, here I sit, spouting meaningless words to a god I haven’t believed in for years. Looking at the painful face hanging from a cross and wondering if that physical pain is even close to the pain you feel when a heart slowly shatters. Each crack and chip is piercing, felt not only in your heart but in your gut, to your toes.

I try to remember the words… hallowed be thy name…. thy will be done…. Fuck that. I beg. I beg for some way to change gravity, pulling us towards the inevitable. I pray for love, the love we had at the beginning. I pray for you, that you won’t let me walk away. And I pray for me, that I can claim the puzzle piece you are as mine.

But I pray to a god I don’t believe in anymore, about a love I can’t believe in anymore.

cross jesus summit cross
Photo by Pixabay on

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