Sheets mangled and torn in sinful passion.
Clothes strewn on the ground in disorderly fashion.
Evidence and proof of my mistakes.
The root and core of why my body aches.
Longing for a kiss, desperate for your touch...
I want to feel your hands in my hair oh-so-much.
Aching with desire, filled with insatiable lust.
Too weak to fight, but knowing that I must.
Holding myself back from going all out.
Not getting what I want, in my mind I pout.
Horror strikes my soul and my face goes deathly pale
When I realize my body wants you to fail .
I feel the bile rising
Knowing that I'm compromising.
She's back with a vengeance and with a hate.
Trying to ward it off. Oops, it's too late.
Feeling his arms around my waist, body pressed against mine.
Somebody please help! For God's sake, drop me a line!
Drowning in black blood, swallowing this lust.
Filling, but forever empty; choking on red dust.
Suffocating in her sheets, in her bittersweet embrace.
Looking for redemption, but finding not a trace.
I've been bought and paid for.
A cheap, inexperienced whore.
Tell me, who can save such an undeserving wretch?
A shadow of a person, a rough and messy sketch.
My Savior has neither flesh nor blood, though both were torn and shed.
Royalty that was slain for me. On a cross, He hung and bled.
It's because of Him that I am redeemed. My name means full of grace.
You'll find no whore here; she's left this wondrous place.
This temple's gone through a full spring cleaning.
I find my life has always had more meaning.
A clean slate. That's what true love tells me.
No matter what substitute the enemy tries to sell me.
So tell me, Satan's mistress. Why are you still here?
I guess I haven't really made myself clear.
Your reign has ended. You'll never win this fight.
You'll no longer feed on me, you vengeful parasite.
Get behind me, Satan. You and your filthy whore.
You'll not dwell in my temple another second more.
Come at me from one direction, now flee from me in seven.
For my strength is not my own. I receive help from God in heaven.
You'll steal not one more thing from me.
We belong to Daddy and are both free.
Scream, rant, rave, and cry. Throw a tantrum for all I care.
Because frankly, when it comes to you, I don't care what is and isn't fair.
Plot and plan, attack till the day I die
Because my Daddy's got me. Until angels close my eyes.
(written 27 Oct 2008)
Wow. This is intense. And very well written. Is this one of the things you told me you wanted me to read? Whether it is or it isn't, I can relate to most of it, and I'm inspired to write in a series of happenings, I don't know, maybe it helps with the healing process? I should really talk to you more about healing, you surely know what it's about, what it's like, and what to expect. I love you, and I miss you. muchly.
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