Bring Him Home

You were my faith. I hated praying, hated all of that before I met you. But then I prayed, and you came, and you left, and I prayed. So what do I do now? Who do I pray to when you’re lying, lifeless at my feet? When my knees buckle and hit the dirt, who do I call for help? Help to mend the ache in my chest and breathe life back into your lungs. God?

God.

Please.

Bring him home to me.

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Published by

emariefera

Writer, graphic designer, photographer.

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