i can feel it on my skin.

when the sun came out this morning, i did not have to hide. the light coming in the window did not seem to hollow me out like it's done every other morning of my life. it did not burn. i did not close my eyes. i did not let myself rebuild my thin wall, protecting me from this fucked up, so-called, sorry excuse of a shitty world. i sat up and pulled the blankets down over my head, with my hands on my knees clenching it tightly so it won't leave me. i slowed my breathing and when i opened my eyes, i could still feel you. you did not fade this time. i softly said to myself "here goes nothing" and i pushed it off of me. my arms flung open stretched out like i was to be nailed on a cross in shame, (and oh what a sorry god you've got) i slid my feet down to the floor and instead of reaching for my cigarettes, i stumbled around my sea of clothes for my keys. i stood up and looked at the calendar. to my car to add another tally. to my book to mark another day, another day that i have survived, another day that i am breathing, still for only one reason, one hope, the little bit of faith i deny having, but know i do, the tiny spring of faith inside my hands, my eyes, my heart, in everything i do, is for you, still.