Hearts be Mended

Hearts be mended,
His will be done.
Wrongs unwrung,
His kingdom come.

Nights of weeping,
mornings devoid of joy.
Tales of silent torture,
Oozing from her very core.

He sees her love;
She feels the pain.
He, blissfully unaware
She, hurt everyday.
He, stuck in a shell,
a prisoner of life's making.
She desiring to blossom,
a most necessary undertaking.
Same book,
different pages.
Same desire to love and be loved,
but separate stages.

With all the subtleties missed,
and every courtesy protocol breached,
Tell me, how can she any longer be his?

Now starkly aware of her pain,
the suffering, the stress of first love,
that all too familiar unfamiliar terrain.
Understanding fully, the unwitting anxiety brought,
and the many proximities to insanity caused;
his chest hurts, his heart bleeds.
He is down on bended knees,
Whilst with Love Himself, he pleads:

Hearts be mended.
Your will be done.
Wrongs unwrung.
Your kingdom come.