Knowing that my feelings were drifting away felt a lot like the ruination of a god. And you pray for Him to get back up, you lend a hand and every piece of you possible, desperately calling out his name to know that the piece of you lodged inside of him hasn’t died with the image of perfection you set up long ago. And you knew the entire time that you were wrong, that you worshipped something that was not, just to assure yourself that you, of all of humanity, had stumbled upon this perfect being, this love-turned-deity. You kiss His feet and see Him in your sleep, you write poetry and compose it in a Bible-of-sorts, hoping one day someone else might read it and know how infinite of a thing He truly is. But ‘is’ turns to ‘was,’ love fades over time, you slowly comprehend that you mistook love for lust, and love begins to feel like atheism. Love smells like the intoxication you once felt, love looks like a bum on the streets and drives like a schizophrenic, being told to take seven different directions and forgetting how to hold the wheel. Love fades, gods die, and honking horns echo in a distance you traveled long ago.
But Heaven help me, I love Him all the same."