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geniaPoems
You’re 17. Sunday mass at Church. Eyes bright. Heart open. Sign of peace. A meeting of warm hands across the pew. Heart aflutter, eyes lowered. You think, God brought us together. Sundays are quickly becoming your favourite day of the week. Eyes meeting, cheeks blushing In between the homily. Weekly meetings turn into bi-weekly dates into marriage. You’re 24. You say, God I can’t do this anymore. Eyes bitter. Hearts closed. Night-shifts. Poker weekends. Empty houses. Wordless, soulless, meaningless co-existence. You think, God brought us together? No amount of hail marys Can save us. That Saturday Night shift at the Hospital. Hand sneaking under scrubs. A breakdown of marriage Vows. Heart pounding. Eyes open. Your saviour. God’s answer?
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Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC
Kyrie Eleison
You’re 17. Sunday mass at Church. Eyes bright. Heart open. Sign of peace. A meeting of warm hands across the pew. Heart aflutter, eyes lowered. You think, God brought us together. Sundays are quickly becoming your favourite day of the week. Eyes meeting, cheeks blushing In between the homily. Weekly meetings turn into bi-weekly dates into marriage. You’re 24. You say, God I can’t do this anymore. Eyes bitter. Hearts closed. Night-shifts. Poker weekends. Empty houses. Wordless, soulless, meaningless co-existence. You think, God brought us together? No amount of hail marys Can save us. That Saturday Night shift at the Hospital. Hand sneaking under scrubs. A breakdown of marriage Vows. Heart pounding. Eyes open. Your saviour. God’s answer?
(dedicated to Steph) I dont condone cheating, but what this poem doesnt say is that the other party cheated first. I wanted to explore the idea of God and blessings in various forms.
#church#relationships#god#failed#marriage#cheating
genia
Written by
genia
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC
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