you're steady clinging to any saving grace that you can find, piling up excuses just to keep his presence justified. not to mention all the ways you let his darkness be romanticised.
the present moments flicker past and you pay them no mind; shackled to a past with him you know you can't revive.

and you could spend a lifetime teaching him to love you right. until you're twisted out of shape dying for him each night.
but you will not play slave to yet another wretched ego, and your being will not cease to glow without him there to tell you so.

and if there is a Lord, He knows that it takes time, to crawl through devastation and to reach the other side. to be damaged and distorted, and to learn you're still divine.
if there is a Lord, He knows that it takes time.