empty verses.

I can still feel you alive inside of me.

Even at three a.m., as I stare blankly into the bathroom mirror, the weight of your presence still cripples me. I’ve let the insomnia take over my body, so here I am, battered and drowning, a shallow breathing tribute to His latest work.

The Bible taught me what was necessary in living a full and rewarding life. It had me believing that all I needed was to fill myself with His love and I would be complete, I would never need for anything or anyone else. I would be safe. I would be happy.

I would be whole.

As a child I would sing the hymns, rewrite the passages, listen closely for the word; each chapter and verse, a comforting sound. Thin delicate pages, turned so perfectly between my little fingers.

Communion. I ingested His body like a faithful cannibal but I was still too young to drink the blood he poured. It was a moment I had anticipated for many years; everyone always spoke so highly of this special occasion. But the wafer did not fill me with the things I had been promised, nor did it make me feel any closer to God. In fact, it all seemed to slip further away.

Confirmation. I was intended to surrender a promise to Him, to ensure that I would always love him. But where I thought love should come from, I felt nothing. I spoke the words of the prayers and held the candles to the flame but I did not feel you. I wanted you. I needed you to complete me.

“Fuck.”

The blade slipped. No, I am not trying to die. I am punishing myself for the mistakes that I have made. There are better ways, they say, to repent your sins without harming yourself or anyone around you, like prayer. They always told me to pray. I spent years praying for someone to find me and fill me with the love I had longed for. I thanked God when he touched me. I felt the light inside of me flicker. I felt the electricity charge through my veins, completing the circuit in a jumble of wires in my brain. Was this what it meant to feel complete? Like an intricate machine that had finally found its source…

“Christ!”

I slam it against the counter and draw away as quickly as I can. My back against the cold door, my bloody hands against my empty belly, I realize that I cannot even cry. I’ve spent an entire lifetime falling in love with a complete stranger, begging for his attention and adoration…I spent an entire lifetime wishing I would one day meet you. A pathetic fool, that's what I am.

But now it has all been ripped away, left in a pile of dead verse from a Book written by the hopeless.

I stand here before God as his enemy,

And we will never be made whole.