the week after god died
i cried on the 18th floor of straz tower

desiree and alexander sat with me
as i pleaded with them
as the shock set in

that
was the worst

it really can't get that bad again
a paradigm
that didn't transform not slide not shift
just
broke apart
nothing shown through
the rubble
it was not even
white

prayers escaped my lips
when ambulances passed by
when i slipped but didn't fall
when a moment of smallest beauty
i stuffed them back down my throat

my hands were magnets before meals
i struggled to keep them apart

lying in bed
staring up
all my confessions
all my thoughts
all my reflections
i never realized until now
they have been trapped since

believing was stupid
from here on
you will be
sad
but smart
i decided

but i cried so much
i wanted so much to go to church on wednesday nights
sunday mornings
but i would not let myself go

it. was. a. lie.
i will not believe.
i will not be stupid.

eight point five years later
i lie on the grass with you
i see the sun shining through
the ringlets of your hair
and i know
against all
that there is something