If half the sleepless love I spend
on watching where your shadow bends —
if half the hours I wait for you
were given to a prayer, quiet and true —
If half the tears I've cried your name
could fall like rain on sacred flame,
if half this madness, half this ache
knelt silently for mercy's sake —
Then maybe the heavens would break apart,
maybe silence would find a heart,
maybe this longing, so human and deep,
would finally learn what holy means.
But I keep lighting hopes for you
at a gate that stays cold through and through —
I chase a god who wears your face,
and beg for a little of your grace.
So no, I won't find Him tonight —
not with this fever, this hunger for light.
I chose a love I can't hold right,
and made a religion of your goodbye.
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 8:31 PM UTC
If half the sleepless love I spend
on watching where your shadow bends —
if half the hours I wait for you
were given to a prayer, quiet and true —
If half the tears I've cried your name
could fall like rain on sacred flame,
if half this madness, half this ache
knelt silently for mercy's sake —
Then maybe the heavens would break apart,
maybe silence would find a heart,
maybe this longing, so human and deep,
would finally learn what holy means.
But I keep lighting hopes for you
at a gate that stays cold through and through —
I chase a god who wears your face,
and beg for a little of your grace.
So no, I won't find Him tonight —
not with this fever, this hunger for light.
I chose a love I can't hold right,
and made a religion of your goodbye.
The poem is not a moral lesson. It is a confession.
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