Curious Love

I cling to him because I am alone. I cling to him because he's present. I cling to him because I'm finally healing and all I want to do is lavish the rest of my heart onto him and watch him bundle it up and tuck it in his pocket, there to stay forever. I smile at him, and he smiles back, and we daydream of each other. We share no future and no hope of one, but logic seems to do nothing to stem the growth of this misguided affection. I feed a hope that can never, ever be realized. It's a curious thing, my love. 

My God searched for me. He enraptured me, captured me. He promised me His heart would be mine. He molded one for me to be with, formed him and breathed into him. My name is written on his heart, even if he doesn't know yet who I am. He has told me to patiently wait on His love. He has asked to be enough. As time has passed, He has loved me. He has healed me, held me, filled me. His love feeds me. I run, He follows. I cry, He holds me.  I lavish my love on those who cannot return it, and ignore His love. He begs me for my heart, and I throw it to the one who cannot love me. Still, He follows... still, He cries out for me. It's a curious thing, His love...