You're not bad.
I've heard those words before.
Usually my shame kept me from seeing his face.
This time, I saw the emotion in his face,
Heard the tenderness and conviction in his voice.
You're not bad.
In desperation my eyes reached across the physical distance between us,
A drowning soul reaching for something to hold onto.
You're not bad.
A cry escaped my lips, emanating from deep within my soul.
You haven't been bad.
You haven't been bad.
The words repeat themselves over and over in my mind,
Breaching a layer of self-condemning conviction.
You're not bad.
Not bad.
Not bad. . .
Beautiful.
That's the voice we each need to hear.