I prayed.

The angels answered me.

I told him.

But he didn't listen.

God doesn't like a man to make a woman cry.

I haven't gotten a good morning hug.

It is now 12:41pm in the afternoon.

He yells because I shed a few tears.

Instead of just hugging me.

I even had to ask.

He won't admit that picking at me was cruel yesterday.

Being mindful, understanding and accepting of his actions could make me feel better inside my human self.

My body's temple.

God's temple.

My abdominal spirit may be lifted.

It would be amazing if he held me and shared with me his feelings about the angel readings.

I sincerely wrote to him answers to my real life prayers.

I would feel more appreciated and important.

I feel terrible.

No empathy.

Hurtful.

There will be no hug, until I shamefully beg.

His response wiil create conflict and more pain every beat that my heart chakra makes.

I'm not regular.

Meanwhile still an hour later, sitting and listening to him brag.

Boast.

There's others in the room.

Loudly speaking.

Throwing Jabs.

It stings me.

No thought about one thing that's really important.

My hug or yesterday's head games.

Emotionally wrecked.

Deniably Rappin' about showing off, his hate for our relationship and the best of him who's always right.

He is never wrong.

I'm to blame.

He slightly but cynically laughs.

Not showing actions of thoughtfulness.

I doubt myself.

Why can't I have a hug?

I don't deserve much of anything.

I nod lowering my chin to my chest.

I'm silent.

I say im fine.

I died inside.

My tears remind him of laughter.

Picking at me.

Smirking like the devil"s "right hand", acting as a saint.

Put me down.

Closer to the ground.

Further.

I'm already low.

I can handle less than bare minimum of my life's force.

My internal joy.

Survival instincts.

Intuition.

He said on the phone to his "friend", "I'm with my girl and she's happy and smiling and we're spending time together".

I wasn't sure what that meant. I still haven't gotten a hug.

But I wiped tears off my face.

And moved on.

A soldier.

"She believed. And He lied."

The angels are watching.

Written by:

Amy Jo Koontz

© Amy Jo Koontz