Outside Your Door

Only a fool
would love anyone
more than he loved

you felt the need
to ask this fool,
“Would you choose God
over me?”

“Every time.”
I regretfully replied.

I, the fool,
had never heard
a woman cry
like you cried
that night.

Asked to leave,
I gathered up
my things
and closed your door,
but quickly realized
I had nowhere else
I wanted to be more.

There was no place
I’d rather be
than sitting outside your door
listening to you breathe.


*In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In Good Faith.”


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