Of skinny dipping and scripture…..

At first the words landed sweet,  like the tingle of sour candy I used to scrape across my teeth during Summer matinees,   so swept up in story that I didn’t notice my tongue start burning raw. It would later hurt to talk and it took some figuring to trade in those large pastel candy pucks…

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my wild and precious yes…

Dear God, I heard the shouted “no!”s and flinched inside where you hold and heal me still and I think it get it, this collective wound that rages against the “you” we’ve painted with our broken down lives and it smells like puke, the hurt we do and chills my spine, that sound of windows…

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