Fancy

When are you coming home, sweet angel,

you leave Me alone.

I would be what you want Me to be,

but you won't let Me,

and you stand in your own doorway,

pining for Me to enter, but blocking the way.

My eyes, alternately blaze love and fire, and you

you pine for whatever extreme I have.

My extremes put you to use, but

My contentedness, it breeds your malcontent.

Fling yourself at My feet,

Hug Me by the knees, as a

child to its mother.

Trust me, as you once did, for

though I hurt you,

I will none again.

Child, you are the apple of My eye,

you are the a joy in My day,

but you clothe yourself in self-loathing, and I cannot

undress you.

Come to Me naked,

show Me your scars,

and I will kiss every one of them,

and love you the better for them.