Every Day I Pray for You

Every day, I

pray for you.

Still, the knife

cuts through

a heart with

a mouth that

misrepresented—

and only hinted

at the truth.

But you took

my mistakes as proof

I no longer

want you in

my life—

running from possible

strife.

I never meant

to push

away—only

intended to be

okay.

But I hid

my pain,

and tried to hold

you up,

until we both

collapsed.

I know, in

the past,

you decided

that being beside

was something

you must undo.

One pillar

fell, taking the

other with it.

But malice was thought

to be the intention.

Not so—

just whispers

we take as

if we know,

and the need

to protect what

was built

by a negative bias:

“Hide, so they

can’t find us.”

Even if we’re wrong,

no more shared songs—

just in case.

So we turn

back toward the

face in the

mirror,

and nearer

to all alone,

making a home

for one,

and a loss

for two.

I guess I’m done—

I can’t get through.

I see the mistakes

as I review.

You don’t know it,

but every day,

I pray for you.

Read next: When I Make Time

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