Debt

I am in debt to the divine for miracles that I had no business receiving.

Some years ago I cried out to the heavens for a revelation, not knowing the arrival of his presence would be both my destruction and salvation. I’ve searched every corner of the world looking for freedom and liberation, but the grip he has on my chest is the g-d's payback for my earthly sins, and he’s pulling me down into damnation.

I wish I could say that this came as a surprise, but I knew this was coming. My fists are tinted red from dried blood that’s foreign to my body. Prideful revenge has become one of my newly profound hobbies, though I wouldn’t recommend it, as I could feel my soul trying to jump out, it’s rotting.

Now, here we go into the third month, without a single thought of touching his skin. I remain calm while I watch our arrogant strides takeover and storm in. But I can’t help but wonder about the standards that we stand by. Human pleasures have gotten the best of us, so much so that we’ve seemed to have forgotten that we’re angels in disguise.

So, here I will remind myself that the way I tilt my head and shrug my shoulders when I smile is too divine to be someone’s secret. My eyes, thighs, and sighs are the key to all of man’s weakness.

I am first and foremost in debt to myself for ever putting up with such bleakness.

Photo by: @saffronwrites