I don’t know where this shadow found me,
I am not sure that even matters,
all I know is that it followed me home.

step in step, it mirrored my pace
if I skipped, it skipped
There was no use in diggin' my heels in

it covered the dips in the sidewalks ahead
never warning before I fell
and when I stumbled, it’s black would kiss the pavement as I did
as in reassurance that we were a team

and it held onto me like a keepsake
but never keeping me
safe

I fell in love with its darkness
and it became close to me as a lover may
in a sensual hiss it called me by name

and soon it became that there was no
beginning nor end to us.

*The man who walks in the dark does not know where he is going. John 12:35

Sacrifice- the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim.*


And perhaps He knows how bruised a set of knees
can get when you are constantly kneeling.
constantly feeling
constantly sealing up the pieces

and that fire you can't help but play in is burning your skin
'cuz you're dwindling in the silence of yearning
but is it really for the next drug, next love, next sigh and deep rub
or could it possibly be that you are addicted to searching?

And the only words that claim any feeling left is a mystery because you can't seem to:
Stop.
Just Breathe.
And Open your eyes.

Perhaps the quickest way to be found is declare that you are no longer lost
to hold together your hands not in pleading but in complete surrender
reach deep inside yourself and place your beating heart on the altar
with faith alone that He will mend her.

I could balance these thoughts with saccharine words,
held carefully in prose just to impress, but would they speak?
Or just be heard?
Can my heart be bold enough to articulate something my speech fails?

A force within my chest is pushing this hollow sound higher.
Its rising and I can almost taste the words being shaped.

You smile and the syllables are forming.
I am afraid that if I smile back those words will just slip between my
teeth and kiss the space that separates us.

And am I ready to leave the comfort of this vacancy?

What if I told you, you were beautiful? Truly beautiful.
Would you release the hold your stare has on me?
What if I told you, you radiate light through the opaque?
Would you let that shine warm these lonely fingers?

No imposter.
Only imposing on the walls built up by others.
Brick by brick and cemented firmly in place with mistrust and infidelity.
Although argued, my persistence will not waiver. Even in storm.

It is said that love is the only thing worth hurting for--
And when love is pure, you shouldn't have to hurt.
In friendship or in passion, let me be your reminder--
Some people leave their hearts open as to be someone's safe harbor.
And so I beckon...Come. Rest in me.

-----
For those who forget there is always someone willing to fight for you. We are His Beloved.

It's one of these feelings where I know if I could just hear your voice
a sweeter honey, smoothing out my rough edges
that I could settle these raging tides in my heart
long enough to sit still and just be.

And if I could just feel your touch for a moment
a softer satin, soothing my tattered spirit
I could actually spread wide my arms and
welcome another in.

Yet as I feel him sink his teeth in to the
vein leading directly from my heart to
my feet, I am stepping out  from this
routine and reaching to the unknown.

because this fear dislocates the numb's hold

and although the thorns draw blood to the surface
it's almost comforting to know I can still bleed

because without your sweet whispers,
reminding me that there is beauty in the
breakdown, I am scared I will never resurface
as a refined portrait of the woman I started

and instead I will be proof that loving and
losing has it's sweeter revenge.

In the vastness detained within blades of damp grass and the gusto
of stars’ light, she let the nectar pour between her thighs;
bathing in the sweet fantasy that promised to reach deep to the assurances
of the Sleepless in Seattle love, one which would stifle that portion of her
that perpetually burned.
She forgot she carried Holy, not between her insecurities but in the
river of red that beat her heart to partake in this mutual, empty dance.
Sweet girl, you are the salt of the earth, but if the salt has lost its flavor,
with what will it be salted again?

The hand of Lust led us to lay
with expectations of the typical friction-filled
dance two strangers make after wine's brave whispers.

In the darkened room where vulnerabilities hide,
your silhouette danced in mirrored
rhythm of the sighs of ***'s lullaby.

And as true to a violin's rod on strings,
our thighs played each other
methodically.