My God, My Time, My Love… #8 of NaPoMo

The organ was already crying the tears I was too afraid to give Life to
I didn’t let it move me
I sat in front… and waited for the motivational speech, laced with funk, guilt and celebration to begin
It was entertaining
Not much Truth
But entertaining
Then we “fellowshipped” afterwords
About the Word
And then it happened…
She said “well honey if you don’t believe the bible to be the literal truth, why are you here?”

Why was I there…
Trying to find MY god I suppose

He’s always running late
And thats usually fine, because I’m always running late
But he promised
He promised he would’t be late THIS time
As a matter-of-fact, his being late is why we are even having THIS time
I’m on my 3rd glass of wine
And he’s late
And then he comes in with a slight grin
As though everything was fine
I asked him why he keeps negating the importance of my time
“You’re still here” he rebutted
“I’m angry at you. You waste my time.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Why was I still there?
I guess I was negating the importance of MY OWN time

And now its Springtime
Peaceful rainstorms
Lovely meditative breezes
Pure Love
“My Love, My Love”
Thats how he signs his letters to me…
they’re mostly post-it notes left out of love in efforts of not waking me while I sleep
He should know he would only interrupt the dream I’m having of him
I’m watching him sleep
He is my Peace
And I’m supposed to be in the kitchen making him breakfast, but I just can’t leave
And now he’s waking up
I want this moment to be perfect
with food & libations at my King’s feet
So why can’t I get up and leave

“Good morning my Love My love, please lay with me”
Oh yeah…
This is why



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