I once loved a man, so incorrectly that I worked him into prayers on Sunday. Forgetting Sundays dont involve work. And that prayers shouldnt be work anyway. Forgetting that he had left me limbering somewhere between Friday night and Saturday morning. The only love he had for me came thrusting into a hangover spilling tears between my lips. He just assumed that it was sweat, and those moans were cries of joy...I wanted more. So I prayed him into Sunday. Wrote him into Monday. Drew him from 04 to church altars, but he rained ravens on my heart. Deep into that darkness peering. Long I stood there wondering, fearing. (Poe) that Id miss out on something great, or that hed be the one that got away. So I loved him, way beyond his season. Beyond our relationships dimension. We had a wasted Wednesday, thirsty Thursday, freaky Friday...type loving. And all I ever wanted was a Sabbath Saturday, Sanctified Sunday, love me Monday through Wednesdays bible study, exchange rings, and vows, and pair our doves type love. So I pray me into Sunday. Write me into Monday. Draw me into a person I deem worthy, because clearly before that Sunday I didnt know my worth.
Posted on: Tue, 04 Nov 2014 22:59:22 +0000
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