I smile like stained glass-
fractured, lit from behind,
but never whole.

No one hears the weeping
that happens beneath the bone.
It’s quieter that way.

I reach for you
out of habit,
and touch only the dust
where love used to live.

But the quiet we left behind
stays.
And stays.
And stays.

Come back when your soul is whole again,
I’ll be here, a sacred flame unwavering,
waiting to baptize you in my love,
to heal the scars that time could not erase.

In this holy waiting,
my devotion is both prayer and promise -
that you are never lost, only becoming
the saint I have always known you to be.

I wasn’t there
when you spilled your pain like holy wine,
offering yourself to silence,
but the silence did not take you.

You did not fall-
not into the dark abyss,
but back into light,
a reluctant resurrection.

I am still here,
spine bowed like prayer on the floor ,
heart burning like a candle
you forgot to blow out.


Come home,
when your hands remember our softness.
I’ll be waiting—
still yours,
still lit,
still aching.

Hold me like a weapon,
bite me like a sin,
and watch me burn—
because I’m yours,
wild and wanting,
and I want it—
every savage, filthy second.