I Still Love You

I still love you.
A lot.
I still love you and the way
you say my name.
Even after this final goodbye,
I still love the thought of
you and I.
I still love you.
Even though you said I can let go,
my fists are whiter than
the paper I'm burning through
with this pen.
Even then,
I was obsessed.
But now you bring me to my knees.
Because,
I still love you.
Even though 112 miles isn't much,
it feels such like an eternity.
Even two days since your lips touched mine
I call you and
beg for your return.
Come home.
Let me hold you.
Let your hair tickle my nos as I whisper
in your ear:
"I still love you"
I never let go and I never will.
These thoughts of you haunt me like ghosts.
But what I miss the most most
is your head on my shoulder,
your voice in the air.
Your hand wiping away my cares.
But now your voice comes through my phone.
But I still love you.
And if you loved me you wouldn't
think of the cost it takes for us to be together.
For me to wrap my arms around your waist
and lift you high
as your hands fumble my hair,
we will never have to say goodbye.
Not again.
Not while the chain of our love is broken
by your presence
and the heavens will open.

Because eternity begins,
when your absence ends. 

And I will wait if I have to.
Because I still love you.
A lot.

The Preacher Without a Pulpit

I'm a preacher without a pulpit.
I am one of few.
I talk and I talk,
but no matter what I say,
I am still the same sinner as You.

But STOP.

Close your eyes and listen.
Do you hear that?

The subtle screaming of silence
tearing the seams of your ears.
Causing sanity to drip down your neck 
and stain your shirt. 

My congregation of dust doesn't speak much.
The bones that line the benches
collect the memories of my voice. 
Every sermon.
Every slur.
Every early morning rant.
They are all just another lesson about her.

My sermon continues.
A long speech made of words.
Each word of letters.
Each letter floats off the page
till her name is all that is heard.

Someday she'll walk in my church.
Give life to the bones and shake the dust.
Rip my paper and tear my pride.
All of my work.
           Lessons of love, hate, and lust.

Gone.

There will by no more lessons to teach.




Everything god promised is in her eyes.

The preacher who preached.
          No meter, some rhymes.
In the end, he'll find the truth in his
          Lies.