we will not be lovers
when i was a girl i went to catholic school.
i would come into church and see jesus hung on the cross, a crown of twisted thorns pressing into his head.
i remember hearing about his simultaneous tears of blood and sweat
i do not believe in jesus
but,
looking back i understand what it feels like to be so overcome with love for a person that you are willing to die for them.
and desperately i want to be precious with your heart even though the act of saying so brings blood to my arms and sweat to my forehead
we will not be lovers
our crown of thorns is far too heavy
but in silent unspoken moments, i can pretend that someone else is carrying the burden of our joint perceived sin
later jesus on the cross asks god why he has forsaken him,
there's something about surrendering yourself to love which feels like inescapable abandonment.
