Letter to you…

I believed in you like I believed in religion. My legs, hands, knees, songs, and journey were searching for a man I could never be sure exists. A man whose scripture promised me eternity, a man who promised me that if I searched long enough that I would be able to find him.  I reached out my arm with my hand spread wide in the air, fingers separated hoping that you would fill in the spaces I left behind. My back against the bench hoping that you would see my Broad shoulders in the pack of slouched posture in the room, hoping that where you would put yours against mine and help me hold up every pain my core ever experienced and somehow I would hold yours and in that we would find happiness. Hoping all of my whispered messages would have been heard and somehow in a world full of wars, starvation, and diseases, I would be saved because you chose me. I kneeled down to you and stroked my head imagining it to be yours hoping that maybe if I bowed down to you, you would find me. Hoping that maybe being closer to the ground you would find me grounded longing for your scent. I got up and sang to you hoping that my voice would stand out from the hundreds others singing the same song to you. Hoping that you would see the light in me and embrace me with your warmth, your truth. Hoping that suddenly your presence would display our love and every hardship I ever experienced looking for you would have been worth it. Hoping that the sound of your voice make me turn around and land into myself while your arms held me. As if you carried a part of me I would never find without finding you first. As if the potential of my capabilities laid in your hands. As if suddenly hearing your words say the words you’ve written as repeated a million times by my voice would suddenly validate our experiences. 

As if I had to ask him to be there, as if I had to believe that he would be there for him to make his entry. As if I had to bow down and convince myself that everything he said was true and not believing in his testament was a reflection of me not deserving a good life. As if believing in his words suddenly meant I was more sure of myself and the world. As if my time spent searching for you was more valuable than searching for myself because by finding you I would have lived my full fleshed life. And just like God, you made me feel as if I had to validate my experiences by searching for your presence. As if drinking your blood and bread would make me more alive and equipt for the future YOU had set out for me. 

But I lost the grip to you the same way I stopped holding on to the belief that I would find myself through religion filled with stories that weren’t mine but would somehow make me. I stopped assuming that a man whose my whole life I devoted to without sensing his presence would be silly enough to devote himself to me. To believe in my stories enough to pray to me every night and try to stand out amongst the crowed. And of course he didn’t have to because religion raised me to believe that he didn’t have to do anything for him but I had to extend every aspect of my life to him. I stopped assuming that your presence would give me amnesia and all of my experiences and hardships of searching for you would no longer matter. 
Just like god, in my most gracious time of need I couldn’t find you. And just like god in the times you’ve asked me to give up my sins to have you, you never once stopped yours. Just like god, in praying to you everyday and Sharing my life I will never ever hear a response. And just like God, in my time of good gracious and accomplishments you were not there. Yet I was always told to thank you for being there, to thank god for bringing me here, to thank god for the miracle he had given me, to thank god to for alleviating me from harmful arms. 
And just like God, you asked for forgiveness. But it wasn’t in any form of you apologizing, but of me confencing all my sins of all the things I did wrong and abiding to you for how it would be most beneficial for me to forgive myself and for you to see me as worthy. Your three hail Mary’s and an our father became three texts and a phone conversation as if now everything was fine and nothing that happened before should matter. And just like god, you promised me you will be there as long as I would do right by you. 

And I did. 
But just like God, I could no longer find you. And I no longer seek broken churches to find your corpse there hoping you would hold an apology letter with three Hail Marys and an our father asking me for forgiveness for all the hurt you have caused me. And maybe your arrogance is just to high because everyone made you out to be that way. But my corpse will be in the same ground as yours and in our love death you would see that I was exactly like you as the maggots eat the flesh you once ate and suck the flesh I once did. And they will erase the moments you speak to me in a way that diminishes my character and builds yours up, but at the same time respects who I am, taking me with all that I have to offer.
It’s ironic that I stopped believing in you the day I confirmed my love to you drinking your blood and eating your bread. While the world congratulated me for being a kiss ass to you was the day I realized you weren’t worth my time. And The man who you made you, the man you would make in the future, and the spirit you had in you, the three aspects of you that are so desperately cherished no longer made sense to me. All of which I have never seen. My heart sank as I went against my wishes to trust you and although the whole world loved you, I couldn’t bring myself to love an absent man filled with empty promises.  

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