Your name flows through my head when I pray.
I weep at my demise.
Who is here to pick up my pieces but the Lord.
It is like I was being held together by him.
The pieces of my porcelain heart are being glued back together.
Some are being held in place.
God gave me the glue.
I have to do some work for this putting together to work.
God holds me together,
but sometimes the memory of what happened shakes me up so much, I break apart once again.
I still miss you, and pray for you.
I am so glad you will never read this, but sometimes I just need somebody to.