The Contour of an Exposed Disaster.

I find myself sitting at your feet once again. It’s that place I find myself when I hang my pride-filled coat at the door. My eyes are wet with tears and my heart heavy with this craving that is never satisfied. My body is bruised, I hope you can recognize me because I surely don’t. How is it that I arrived in this desert? So dry and so in need of a cup of water. Bare-boned and exposed I feel ashamed sitting in front of you. My silhouette is dark and my limbs have been stripped of the clothes that covered up this broken soul. Sometimes it just feels like this disease running through my veins and pounding through my chest.
This is when you tell me that I am free from the ropes that bind me to this floor. This is when you tell me that I never had you fooled. This is when you place your loving hand upon my breaking back and support this twisted spine. Still I am not sure if I feel you there or if maybe I am still numb from the damage I have done. For someone like you to love a creature like me seems surreal. My mind just can’t comprehend your perfection. You desire to make me whole and I can’t get past the fact that I never feel good enough. Maybe I am scared of letting you down or maybe I am scared of not being in control. You know- so maybe you should tell me.
How is it that I can recite the proper words off by heart, like the songs I learned as a child, but I can’t fuse it to this heavy heart? All I know, and maybe all I need to be aware of right now is that you are still my beloved and I am still yours while I sit in this desert.