And it’s been months. 

It’s been months.

God told me something

And wrapped a red string

around my pinky.

He said remember there is

hope.

And that I love you. 

And I wept

and wept

and wept 

and wept.

And He whispered

some more

And I saw the red string

form a bow across your pinky

Or maybe my eye sight is getting worse.

I hear the months March or April

And I draw flowers, trees, and leaves

Blooming like our

hearts. 

And this past year was about mistakes

And this year is about breaks.

Not breaking of hearts, 

Just breaking of bread.

Our mistakes are not who we are

Who we really are glimmers

And reflects

And it blinds everybody.

Our red strings intertwine

And they want to say 

We’re too dependent on each other.

But are we really?

Or are we just loving one another

Like it’s suppose to be.