I thought something
Was wrong with me.
I'm writing so
Seriously.
Reading poetry
Religiously.
Lines invade
When I'm retiring,
Ascending I'm reciting,
Divining parallel parables.
I'm convinced  
He's left the stage,
Replaced by me
On the page,
In figures of speech.
The Chosen words,
Give meaning and comfort
Religion obscured.

Tears have a strange comfort as appropriate response to the brokenness of this world.

4 years
2 months
28 minutes
and 39 seconds

Its 4:28 am
and I know
that I don't love you
anymore

-j.t.