Guilt: My BFF

One more reblog… 🙂

Wild Heart Scribe

I crossed the threshold
of a place called Resurrection.
From the rigid, shellacked pew,
I bargain, plead, bargain
for absolution.
Guilt sits beside me.
The hairs on her arm touch mine.
She takes my hand and presses it
deep into her own.
I turn to look into her eyes.
She gazes at me lovingly, longingly
as though she has been waiting for me,
waiting to be my one true friend,
the one true voice in a murky river of blind whispers.
She smiles knowingly.
I bow my head in acceptance of her friendship,
thinking that to be with her is so much more
than I deserve.

I rise to leave and
she shadows my every move.
We are almost one as she reaches for my hand
as the humid air sidles in past the heavy church door.
I look at her once more
knowing if we walk out together
she…

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