How Deeply You Hope
She writes love letters to you in her sleep. She picks out
songs to tell you how she cares, but she doesn't send them to you (yet). She gently tells you that she believes in you.
She prays the prayers that keep you safe. She reminds Heaven when your head is
heavy, and she volunteers her shoulder to hold it up. Hers is a waiting love, and she'll wait for you.
You've been walking alone for a while now. Your heart is
almost healed and your hand doesn't shake when it reaches toward the mirror.
You don’t feel the tug of the scars so much; they've stretched into normality.
Now when you sit on the river bank, you imagine it would be nice to have someone there, a hand to hold.
But you don’t know she’s waiting for you, and she doesn't know you’re ready yet. So close your eyes and say the prayer. Hope desperately
and wish her into your arms. Take an extra sandwich next time you go down to
the river, she’ll be there soon. I know this because I see
how deeply you hope.
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