All the humid nights in summer, the ones that keep you up at night. Crickets chirping, fan whirring, heat rolling off my skin, as I close my eyes and listen. The end of my insomnia, creating comfort in my suffering soul. The tall glass of sickly sweet southern ice tea is all the twinkling stars above my head and the chinking of glasses of celebration. All the red in my veins and when my heart pumps it whispers his name like a well kept secret, but everybody knows. Salvation like an arrow to the heart, so much pain but so much saved.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
All the humid nights in summer, the ones that keep you up at night. Crickets chirping, fan whirring, heat rolling off my skin, as I close my eyes and listen. The end of my insomnia, creating comfort in my suffering soul. The tall glass of sickly sweet southern ice tea is all the twinkling stars above my head and the chinking of glasses of celebration. All the red in my veins and when my heart pumps it whispers his name like a well kept secret, but everybody knows. Salvation like an arrow to the heart, so much pain but so much saved.
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