This is where things get heavy.

The book of Hosea just gets to me. I love it and it horrifies me. Something about it calls out to me, grasps for me, tears at the harlot in me, the selfish, terrified drug addict in me, the emptiness.

I am the unfaithful wife.
The prostitute.
I'm the naked drug addict, collapsed on the bathroom floor
Shivering against the icy tile, teeth chattering
Gasping at the sharp, throbbing pleasure and pain that washes over
Wincing and sighing at the shame mixed with relief
Temporary relief
Of a need I just don't even want anymore
I'm the harlot, the junkie
Shaking
Alone and selfish and aching and full of guilt and shaking and shaking and shaking
Scared
Always going back, running off, to the lovers with empty promises
"Come..." You always whisper, "let us reason together."
I feel your hands around my scarred, bruised up wrists, pulling me to my feet
"You're safe now. You're home again."
Your words and breath warm me
The trembling stops.
Selah.