lettersfromastoic

The sun bleeds and the moon's pain can be felt by both of us below, waiting, watching. You were roses before sunrise, hungry for sunlight, for new promises and love. I was strong, black coffee and barbed wire. Every morning I looked out my window and whispered to an cold, uncaring world, "I am an olive falling from its tree and praising the mother that it grew on." You've changed so much. I haven't changed at all.

feel the thud of forgotten footsteps chasing behind into unknown boundaries. shudder to the despondency of the distant trembling heartache. cease to the ever familiar icy touch curling encircling your presence summon the enclosing unforgiving wrath the choking suffocating bursting twitching killing. close your eyes take notice for once the hushed murmurs of faraway illusions that sang its sad sad song... softly humming "please remember me…"

i believe i have never truly loved You, my Jesus,   and yet i still call You mine.   i have never given You my all,   and yet i expect a lot from You. i believe i have never fully trusted You, my Jesus,   and yet You still have confidence in me.   i have never even surrendered my life,   and yet You died on the cross for me. what a shame,   how i call myself Yours...