weapon and the wound.

i don't want to be afraid.

early morning bible study morphed into abandoned small town sainthood.

faith isn’t a word, but a hum burrowed deep inside where only disappointment can reach.

the lessons slipped away. i stayed here, unforgivable. the ink of unsent prayers smudge against my soul.

no one gently touches my arm or wishes me peace anymore. the ache dissipates. give it time.

regret cracks open a window to escape. it goes far, it goes everywhere. can you feel it?

still i linger outside the building when night terrors overflow. still i catch my silver cross between my teeth when sunlight blinds.

i’m unsure of my actions. this isn’t a call to return nor a request to roam.

a vignette closes around me. i crave its embrace. reversal breaks tension.

i fell in that hole, choked under the faucet, bled from dulled protection. bled, bled, bled…. i stare at the marks with glory. falsehoods i rearrange and subvert to heal.

the consequences never stray far. i carry them home with sunlight illuminating me. i will always clean my wounds and their weapons with stained fingers.

i hear songs beyond the distant tree line, but they aren’t for me. not this time.