My heart feels like it's being wrenched out, wrung dry, and left hollow. It feels like it's slowly painted red on black on red using a scratched record of regrets and remorse. Of sins and wrongdoings. Of ill-feelings and unfeelings. Helpless. Uncontainable.

They tell you to tell and not bottle it up but they tell you to not tell but tell only Him. They tell you to feel and let go but they tell you to uncork confront and correct because well, Him.

My heart feels like a bag of sand. I wish the wind would blow away dirty grains of dirty deeds. I wish the beads would wash into luminescent pearls of Devotion. I wish His words could be spelled and  etched and remain. Never leaving. But my heart feels like a bag of sand coarse and muddled slowly hardening shaping into shifts of fleeting good long periods of bad and longer times of confusion. How long until it's completely punched and pebbled into blackblueblack concrete? When it is irreversible, when it is forever damaged.

My heart feels terrible.