Your shoes

Your shoes overcome mine 

On the blanket 

With invasive sand

Toppling 

Eclipsing

Your shoes 

Conspiring 

In a day of happy 

While my heart 

Remains too hurt to breathe

My mind is fighting with itself 

For air 

It has become so encrusted 

With the powdery, worn down 

dust of us rubbing together

If this is what is meant by 

Iron Sharpens Iron

It is painful 

Unrelentingly 

Painful 

As Unrelenting as His love for us

Love keeps no record of wrongs

Love keeps no record of wrongs

I accused you of an accounting system

stacked against me

and I was right about that

But now that I think of it

I have been the one 

Keeping track of my wrongs

Never letting go of my flaws 

Always judging and recounting

Do I not believe that I am worth 

Being loved? 

Am I capable of letting love in? 

Am I worthy of grace? 

Is grace there for me? 

Tonight was a pink moon

the full moon as Lent closes

she is pink and has hot breath

reeking like she's been drinking

we are having words

the moon and I

and God is in between us 

He is catching the slack 

both of them are asking me to rest 

both making a fool of me 

in my wet eyed, angry rant 

remaining silent 

their tone brings stillness to my kicking 

she softens around midnight

or I get over it

starting to see 

she is sprouting grass

and in her own way waiting up with me

sitting with me through it

stirring me to it

maybe our Lenten fast 

the moon and mine 

was an attempt at parched begging 

but when it's over 

we'll still have each other