I.

I let it go.

You ripped a hole in my heart.

I said nothing.

Even still, I suffer in the deep places of my soul,

Believing that asking you to say you’re sorry

Would be truly missing the point.

Because I cannot give you the eyes to see

What you chose to be blind to.

II.

Because

I love you still.

And I cannot stop.

III.

I dared you to notice.

You belittled me.

I seethed on the inside.

And somehow still, underneath the forgiveness I chose,

An anger seeks to surface,

For I know you were wrong.

Even more than that, you were afraid.

Coward.

IV.

Because

You never loved me.

And you believe you did.

V.

I was asking for a friend.

You blinked, and judged.

I cried in front of you.

Yet today, though your memory is murky,

I feel sorry for you.

What a tight, tiny box you exist in

And will never come out of.

VI.

Because

You said you loved me.

And I know you didn’t.

VII.

I ignored Him.

I pretended to listen.

His hands still extend, open.

His voice still calls, quiet.

His heart still loves, steady.

The grace of redemption is

Forward motion.

Inviting pew-weary Jesus people to embrace + experience their truest identity as beloved through subversive spiritual disciplines. Hope*Writer. Creative mentor.

Inviting pew-weary Jesus people to embrace + experience their truest identity as beloved through subversive spiritual disciplines. Hope*Writer. Creative mentor.