You wish for a promise
of light
to ignite
your love for laughter again;
to bathe your calloused hands
in warmth
and joy
and love
that hurts less
in that odd place
in your chest
and between fingers
that stroke another woman’s strands.
I understand.
What can I promise
except that which is true:
He doesn’t tire hearing from you;
and trusting Him
will fill your hands and heart
with more than you can fathom.
While it hurts to hold
your arms up for so long,
crushes you to keep smiling
pretending to be strong,
He doesn’t tire
hearing you;
and that’s a promise
I promise is true.
© LaYinka Sanni, September 2015.
From Tuesday 