Grace is the wind that filled my sails
and took me to shores I'll never know
to taste the fruit of her scarred but beautiful land

Good intentions,
but no way to let them
come through and be seen

Grace led me to the well
and let me drink
the tepid yet quenching water from her veins

Tell me I am only dreaming
I'll never wake up
I'll be held in comfort as I sleep

"It's okay," I tell myself

I'd tell my tongue to speak until it broke my jaw
to feel the reflection of her sunlight
on my face, again
Grace took her treasures
and closed her eyes to me
leaving the faintest but deepest scar
in their place
But my fading voice will sing
her songs, until I am no more,
even as she silently cries for me
She won't speak, but
she will still call out
She won't crawl down, though
it's far too dirty and bloody
down here where I exist
I could never blame her,
who would want to cut through clouds
and come down here when they
can feign the safety of their heaven?
I don't want to be here, either
but a fist through the mirror
didn't solve anything

This is me, at my darkest

The hunger and the thirst,
the wayward search
cripples me, inside and out

"It's going to be okay," I'll tell myself, again

My skin shrinks and my ribs are exposed
but I can't get the taste from my tongue
I would rather starve on the remains

I can look elsewhere
but the fruit cannot bear the flavor
nor can the water be so fresh

It is an acquired taste,
as am I, and
quenching our hunger was bliss

My love is
not love at all,
unless it is love to the end

"It will be okay."

So I cannot feel resentment or an affront
to know this hunger
Grace gave to me...