*This piece contains themes of spiritual manipulation, infidelity, and emotional abuse. May be triggering to those with similar experiences. Reader discretion advised.

You said God sent me—

that I was the calm

after a life of storms.

You prayed beside me,

then used that same hand

to delete your messages.

You called me holy.

Then touched him in the dark.

You said love was sacred,

but drank communion

with a mouth full of wine

and betrayal.

You didn’t just cheat.

You made it spiritual.

Wrapped your sin in scripture.

Said God was “working on your heart.”

You weaponized grace

as a place to hide.

And I—

I stayed.

Not because I was blind,

but because I believed

forgiveness was faith.

That seventy times seven

meant staying

even while bleeding.

You said,

“God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”

But it was you

who kept handing me more.

You laid hands on me in worship,

then disappeared

into someone else’s sheets.

You said you loved me

like Christ loves the church—

but He never gaslit the church.

Never abandoned it.

Never mocked it for weeping.

God doesn’t cheat.

God doesn’t lie.

God doesn’t call cruelty

sanctification.

But you did.

And when I left,

you called me the sinner.

Said I gave up on what we built.

But all I built

was a cross

to hang myself on.

I am not

Playing Jesus.

In your resurrection story.

This is mine.

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Letters I'll Never Send