I don’t miss you at church, I don’t miss you In front of God I miss you driving to work, Cracking open a Celsius, Eating cacio Pepe I miss you when I’m getting dressed I miss you when they bring out The wrong appetizer I couldn’t possibly kneel deeper I couldn’t possibly dig my nails into this tree bark Any harder But the breeze bends me to The doorstep of your altar (pour your wax into my mouth) And I don’t miss you in prayer books Sermons or speeches But skipping rocks, peeling off leeches Til the sabotage climbs like fern What did I do What did I do Want to meet at the mall And review maps Make plans and hold new hands I may not be your bride But we both know I’m your bridle Copyright ©️ Kimberly Virga 2026

The way you stalk me, abiding by evil, Is so fruitful And still I’m almost collapsed onto my knees, Despite the carnage, the red lips, the kill You dart between trees and heartstrings Ready to strip me of any flesh I have left, anything worthy Ready to clip me of any molted wings I could’ve kept, But you insist they wouldn’t serve me Every time I dip down into the water, I only see your face And the sky has knelt for an unfunny god And I’m running, but let’s be honest I love being in this place Copyright ©️ Kimberly Virga 2026

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God, I’m tired. Not the kind a night of sleep can fix. I’m soul tired. Bone-deep. The kind that settles behind the ribs and refuses to move. I don’t have big words tonight. No polished prayers. No Sunday voice. Just this. I tried being strong today. Tried smiling like the cracks weren’t spreading. Tried walking straight while everything inside me leaned sideways. People think faith looks like certainty. But tonight mine looks like sitting on the edge of the bed with my hands hanging loose and nothing left to hold up. God, I’m tired of carrying versions of myself I don’t recognize anymore.Tired of memories that don’t knock before coming in. Tired of pretending that healing doesn’t take more out of me than breaking ever did. And I know I’m supposed to say thank you. Supposed to say I trust you. But tonight all I’ve got is honesty. So here it is unfiltered, unfinished, barely standing: If you’re still here, sit with me. I don’t need answers. Don’t need lightning. Don’t need a miracle speech. Just stay. Because sometimes faith isn’t a fire. Sometimes it’s a flicker that refuses to go out. And if that’s all I can offer tonight God, I hope it’s enough. by Jason Strickland

Be honest… how many unfinished poems are hiding in your notes app?