War

i am not the victim, god already made that clear. Hear her side.

Just a disclaimer, for those who may read this (nobody),
Read this with a tone of irony and a comedic tone. Divine comedy. Cosmic laughter, like you would laugh at a situation because laughter is the only thing that you have left.
This will get dramatic at some points, and so be it, but just laugh and feel what you want to feel. Because this is just painfully funny. God is in his Dave Chappelle era with this phase of my life,
I AM NOT LAUGHING...but I kind of am. Alright. Ignore me. I am going crazy. Read away.

I kissed a girl
and God kissed her soul clean of me.
She prayed for clarity—
and I became the fog.
She asked for peace—
and I was the war He ended.

What am I,
but a sacrifice too willing?
What is love,
if not a lamb walking to its own altar,
dressed in poems and vulnerability,
whispering take me, take all of me.

I prayed too.
Not to be cleansed—
but to be chosen.
To be the hand she held when her faith trembled,
to be the safe sin she kept.

But she called me the blockage.
The static in her spirit.
The devil in disguise—
except I wasn't hiding.
I was right there,
heart in my throat,
offering light like I hadn't already burned to keep her warm.

She kissed me.
She kissed me.
And I thought for a second
maybe this time
God was giving instead of taking.
But it was a test.
And I failed.

I told her this would happen.
I knew.
There's a cruel peace in prophecy,
a quiet scream in saying I told you so
when all you wanted was to be wrong.

She had her own prophecy as well,
That things would end in a fiery inferno of my coldness,
But who would have thought that gOd would intervene?
That as she shared her prophetic truth, it would do as Allah assumed it would do, cause me to be cold as ice.
Since creator already intervened, may he be the only one to judge because it does not matter which one of our prophetic voices screams louder, hopefully it is hers because it again confirms what I thought about myself (with a divine twist). Now we are estranged at the moment.
Both eye deep in the cold.

She says she loves me.
But loves me like a ghost loves the living—
from a safe distance,
from a different plane.

She said I made her forget herself.
That I was so loud in her soul
she couldn't hear her own heartbeat anymore.
That I was the silence she needed to shatter.

Tell me—
how does it feel to be the demon in someone else's deliverance story?

God,
if you hate me,
just say it.
If I am your unclean thing,
your divine mistake,
then leave a note next time.
Don't send me flowers only to burn them
while I hold the vase.

She said she prayed to remove what blocked her,
and I (in a special way) vanished.
I didn't even get to say goodbye.
Not properly, just like most things.

She said she still loves me...this hurts.

And now,
I mourn not just her—
but You.
My Father.
My God.
You died in me the day You confirmed
that I was the burden she begged to be free from.

I loved You both.
So much.
Too much.
And still You chose her healing
over my heart.
Not a bad thing because if I love her then this should be the right thing, obviously.
But why do I feel this way. Damn. I am once again not the victim,
I am not deserving of sympathy, understanding, compassion, empathy, or anything. Just damn.
It just hurts,
But thankfully what is adding water to an ocean, or a grain of sand to a beach,
It just blends in with the rest.
This is not fair to her at all.

So here I am.
Still burning.
Still praying.
Still loving.
Still asking—

Was it better to experience love for a short period of time,
Then not to have loved at all-

Advice I got,

You prayed. You loved. You gave. You hoped. And instead of feeling like your love lit a path, it feels like you were the obstacle she asked the divine to remove. And then—poof. It hurts like betrayal, like divine rejection, like being scapegoated by heaven itself.

And still... you love her.
That's the gut punch. That even with all this, your heart is still intact enough to ache.

You're right—this isn't just about her. It's not just a relationship lost. This is about God. About feeling like you've been abandoned by the only one you used to trust with the parts of you no one else sees. This is about the Father that felt like He died when you needed Him most. About mourning divinity like a grave site. That's deep. That's sacred. That's devastating.

She prayed for clarity and she got it. But you? You prayed for connection, and some foolishness but god again, and got confirmation that you were chaos.
And I don't think that's fair. I don't think God is playing chess with your soul like that.

But I do understand why it feels like He is. You didn't lose her to another guy. You lost her to her own awakening, and you were the shadow that had to be cast out for her to see the light again.

And that fucking hurts.

Let's call it what it is:
Holy heartbreak. Divine detachment. Kiss of death disguised as a gift.

The almighty ALMIGHTY, OMNIPOTENT, OMNIPRESENT, OMNI EVERYTHING GOD could not problem solve this issue? Really? No troubleshooting that helps both people, maybe this will make sense in the future and it will all work out. But so what, that is temporary comfort and a fools errand. Bandaid on stab wound. So be it. Only God can judge,
he already has.