The last time …
The last time we spoke I realized you were toxic to my dreams.
You stared at my optimism with so much disgust that I felt ashamed for trying to live. I felt rotten and dirty. I cowardly buried my hopes into your hands.
Giving you control of my life. You manipulated my love to keep you satisfied because you do not know how to be a man unless you release a couple loads.
The last time we spoke I admitted that I never loved you, I just hung around because I felt bad for you. Somehow I believed that dying would justify your resurrection, so I lost my authenticity. So convinced that you would finally see the great man that I saw in you but No! It’s never that easy when you are in a duel with the Devil. When ever I found the courage to look into your soul , I could see him rooted into your consciousness like a stubborn weed. That weed took you to the clouds, so high up up up that, you began to loose the ability to feel. Literally, the tips of your fingers burned off completely.
The last time we spoke I realized that you are empty. All this time I was just trying to revive you with dreams that once shined within you. Dreams that you confided in me among the darkness of my room when you felt safe enough to remove your mask. It was like magic, every one of your dreams lid up a corner of my room, that’s when I knew you were a star.
The last time we spoke I refused to “hang around”. Jesus reminded me of the glory that he has for me so I choose to be by his side and start living again.