Words are short.
She was perfect to look upon,
As an adventurous fairy-tale read to a child.
She was a miracle;
New like the dawn of a Spring morning,
Sweet like Trader Joe’s cheese,
Opportune like the refresh button fixing website glitches.
Her melody is a luxury;
Her vitality is a necessity.
You don’t know it,
But sometimes I peak through your window.
You look different when I peak – you’re off guard.
I dote on you.
If you’ve come here for a compliment, you’ve come to the right place.
And if I had a nickel for every time I thought that…
I’d have 47 nickels;
Enough for my nephew to buy chocolates for his kindergarten crush;
And if it can work for him…
Words are misleading.
Only I am perfect.
Your true heart precludes your perfection;
You are not perfect,
You never were a miracle.
You’re simply a girl, running from me.
You were born running from me.
I peak through your window but I only see myself.
It was always myself. New, yet broken;
Like the bad sequel of a good movie.
As cliché as vintage knock knock jokes.
Fake like plastic cheese in a storefront window.
On the brink of the curtains closing, I turn around,
I now see that it is Jesus looking in on me.
The Word is fulfilling.
My feet finally at ease.
The room fills empty as I look back at Jesus;
His love replaces the emptiness,
No words can grade the transcendence of His stare.
He is peaking in on me.
He is peaking in on us.
Us, His Church, His Perfection, His Miracle. His Bride.
If we’ve come for a compliment, then we’ve come to the wrong place.
If we’ve come for love and vitality –
Or just to simply stop running, then…welcome home.