Are you ready to convince me the Lord is still here?
Because I watched you
Talk about peanut
Butter and all I can see is a
Mess of
Blonde Hair and Glasses and I'm
Suddenly aware I'm not
That and you've
Given glances and heart
Beats to others
Too.
I am a mess of what I can
And cannot
Say as my
Fingers slide over a
Half-written
Note, half-cast
Glances. I'm
Guilty. I feel
Guilty. The words we've
Exchanged since
Singing on
A rickety
Stage are
Muddy and I'm
Afraid you
Want to take them
All back.
I'm sitting in wet
Dirt, crying and afraid to
Tell
You.
I woke up believing
I'm going to
Scare you
Into abandoning-
You had on an
Orange bow-tie
And used your perfect speaking
Voice and you didn't see
Me
Watching. I have been Faith-
Less. Faith-
Less in all
Things, yet He still
Is being made
More and Much
Of.
Lord have
Mercy. Christ have
Mercy.
I have been silently
Casting
Stones at everything you
Don't
Say. Know, in this
Moment I am a
Sinner in
Full, the only
Hope of securing
Steadfastness in the
Inexplicable blood of
The Lamb
Covering my black,
Impatient, selfish,
Hell-bent
Heart.
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