Crushed chalk to diamond dust

They did not see, our crucifixion wasn’t televised.
The day you broke down, and held my hand.
Swimming in chalk, dusting it off our clothes.
Feeling so low and desperate.
The soft surrender of hopelessness.
But we did not die, we did not fade into white.
A burst of control and all the things they’ll never know.
Our resurrection, in colour and flesh and bone.
Just a matter of time now until they paint our picture.
Hang it on the wall where the wolves devour other hearts.
Stronger, from here on out.

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