If we’re all actually
in the hands of a
Christian God—
His tight grip has melted me like
chocolate,
and I’ve slipped through
His mighty fingers—
a puddle of delicious
rejuvenation.
I spread everywhere,
molding to all of the
bumps and
cracks
in the floor.
Sweet, sweet freedom.
His son can never
mop me up
and remold me into
His image.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
If we’re all actually
in the hands of a
Christian God—
His tight grip has melted me like
chocolate,
and I’ve slipped through
His mighty fingers—
a puddle of delicious
rejuvenation.
I spread everywhere,
molding to all of the
bumps and
cracks
in the floor.
Sweet, sweet freedom.
His son can never
mop me up
and remold me into
His image.
