praying

I whisper prayers into my pillow where you used to sleep beside me,

And I grind the words out beneath my teeth.

They're said in the rubbing of my collar bone,

The reckless curve of my driving,

And pulled through my fingers along with the strands of my hair.

I hear them in the creak and the thud when my knees meet the ground,

I feel the weight of them in my heart as it sinks.

Each night I telephone god, and leave him a voicemail.

Each night the message is the same,

I beg to learn the art of forgiveness.

And my body recoils at the thought of it,

But god gently reminds me that forgiveness is for yourself.

My body has already forgiven me for the way I abused it for your love,

The scabs have all fallen away,

So why do I have to bruise my knees any longer?

I'm learning the art of forgiveness,

And I think I'm getting closer because now I can whisper your name in the midst of a prayer without feeling like a contradiction.

You brought me hell,

And the only way to deliver myself from it is from my knees.