She sits across from me, pouring out her heart.
Confession, confusion, childish humor...
mingling to create conversation
long over due
never too late.
I listen until she is poured out,
almost sixteen year old thought processes
interweaving into a tapestry of desperation
purely and simply pleading:
"what am I worth?"
I call her beautiful
watching her eyes fill
tears heavy with doubt and longing,
salty from a desire unsatisfied...
and why there are no comments allowed,
click here to read the first post Lent, Day 0.