And You Still Find me Beautiful.

No matter where I go
She will reach me.
Damage.

And even though the view from here
Seems clear,
the truth is,
there is no escaping.

A plastic sheet that separates me
from you.
Me, from sanity.

Does it matter how far I run?
I will never really reach you.

I can paint over these cracks and creases
But the fact remains I'm broken,
beaten, damaged.

We'll never be the same:
Wholeness.

God let me find relief, satisfaction
in this emptiness.

God let me find beauty in this
brokenness.

Because I know,
he and I will never meet.

When wholeness heads east.
God,
find me west.

-Noemi E. Garcia Rigsby