x-raysofsomethingbroken

Heart: Yaaaaayyyyyy!!!!! I have feelings for someone!!!!

Head:

I’m pretty sure the kid in the apartment above me just screamed, “I grew a mustache!” But he sounds like he’s about five.

That’s one hairy kid.

wait. You’re cute AND you like me… 

I don’t trust you.

There I go, slipping through that moonlit window,

Led by the songs of my past lovers.

I don’t know how I continually convince myself

That this will make me whole

Because all this making love to my demons only tears at the

Seams of the wounds you were stitching back up

and I always come back shame-faced, tail between my legs,

Begging you for mercy, mercy on my wicked soul.

I just want to feel you, I just want to feel, feel anything,

So I throw myself at razorblades and lonely souls

And then alcohol because I feel too much.

I feel too much and it’s all wrong because it’s not you God,

I don’t feel you, and you’re all I want but I’m too ashamed

I’m ashamed that my bed’s still warm with gluttony,

I’m still playing house with pornography,

I can’t cut loose from my apathy

And I share my name with a hypocrite.

God, I hate myself sometimes,

So I settle for some shiny plasticized mockery of you

And I worship it and ask it to bring me some sense of worth

And wonder why the response is silence.

God, can you hear me? Can you hear me?

I’m so over myself.

Won’t you bring your shotgun to the yard and scare off all

These past lovers? Because I’ve been a whore-house far too

Long and I just want to be a home.

I just want to be your home.

Will you live here, God?

An attractive switch must have been turned on somewhere, because after nearly twenty five years of roaming the planet guys are starting to hit on me.

This past weekend a cute, mustached hipster man was totally digging my chili and told me I looked like this girl (now now):

I would think there was hope for me yet, but I’m incapable of a positive response in any of these sort of interactions. It didn’t make it easier that it was right in front of my mom. Needless to say, there was no exchanging of any personal information. So if you’re the mustached musician from Coshocton: thanks and hi and I thought you were adorable and my parents think you look like Luigi.

one day, the last of one kind, the first of another, I will be brought before king Jesus. And I have to imagine that I will feel very different than I ever have before. I believe that all my shame will be completely washed away. I will no longer have that lingering doubt that I am unloved, that I am not enough, that there’s something missing. I will be completely satisfied and feel the warmth of the deepest of loves wash over me. I imagine that my brother’s arms are strong and stable and that his voice is rich and deep and He will whisper into my ear that He’s so glad that He saved me, so glad that I am here with him now. He’ll hold me so firmly in his grasp, and I’ll recognize it as a hold that has always been on my life, that he has always been holding me, always been saving me, I just had doubted that, lost sight of it at times. But I’ll never feel doubt again, I’ll never be distracted by earthly whims. I’ll be able to fully surrender myself to this, the purest form of love, and it’ll only be the first of endless days. What joy awaits me, what joy I can have now, just knowing that this day will come. And all of the sudden everything feels worth it, to know that this is my prize, this is what awaits me at my end: a true beginning.

you know what I love? Just right now I was feeling so frustrated, and I told God, “You just don’t even know…” and he stopped me and reminded me that Jesus was fully man. He is acquainted with all of my frustrations and desires.  He experienced them too. I’m not alone in my struggle, because I have  a God who is familiar with all my ways, who has been tempted just as I am, who understands me perfectly. I love that God is so beautiful, so loving, that he would acquaint himself with all my sorrows and frustrations, so that when I am in need, He can reach out and tell me that he understands, that He’s been there.

You would feel the heat

if longings were palpable,

and I would warm you.

don’t listen to fire/fear by the head and the heart for three hours straight on repeat. It only feels good for like the first half hour and then you feel all sappy and like you’re going to cry.

What I look forward to, my love, is waking up with your arms around me. Quietly slipping out of bed I’ll pad to the kitchen and brew coffee. You’ll groggily grab your Bible from the nightstand and thumb through the thin, worn pages.  I’ll make my way back with a pair of mugs emitting wispy tendrils of steam and a scent that gently calls the senses to stir.  I’ll climb back into tangled sheets, into your sturdy arms and I’ll rest my bed head on your solid chest. I’ll sip at the hot fluid in my mug and feel your diaphragm vibrate as you read us the scripture that you settled on. I’ll feel warm and secure in that place, God’s promises coming from your lips, your arms surrounding me.  And I’ll close my eyes as you pray for our day, that it is focused on our Savior, that we love as he loves us and sacrifice as he sacrificed for us. And I’ll pray that all our worship is directed towards him, that our thoughts and actions reflect Christ. And we’ll just lay there in silence for a while, just at peace with each other.  And I’ll just think to myself how you were worth it, worth the wait and the loneliness, the years of questioning whether you would ever exist in my life and all the times I denied myself for what I knew would be better. I’ll let my hands rest on you and feel your frame move lightly up and down as you breathe and I’ll see how blessed I am, how all along God had only the best in mind for both of us. And I’ll praise him. I look forward to that.

won’t you lean over,

brush your lips against my neck,

breathe goosebumps on me