I lay on my left side In a loose fetal position With my left arm softly wrapped around my body On a curved diagonal Where my hand cups the fat just above my hip My right arm crosses up towards my shoulder The backhand meets the cushion of my cheek I hold myself loosely Wishing for a firmness of grip That only another could create My left hand slips upward Towards a tiny love handle Tears drip like wax from candles Running down my hand Hardening like hearts do What is this hug I force upon myself? Willing a touch that fills Breath behind my ear that heals stillness steals the urge to scream I grip tighter and harder These nightmares I dream Are growing ulcers and tumors That bleed into my strangled stomach days turn into nights fingernails sink into skin I am awaiting Him
The digital writing sanctuary of a storyteller, preacher, artist, educator, bourbon connoisseur and fermented grape lover. Eavesdrop on my conversations with (God) myself.