All that was left was hallelujah,
me, and that picture of the former you,
signed, by Arnold Schwarzenegger,
I didn’t cry.

They bustled in with Chinese food,
they made me eat with them,
I couldn’t tell them, didn’t know how,
I hoped they would hear the echoes of hallelujah.

It was deafening, distinct in the room,
and with one excuse me,
there they where, the screams of hallelujah.

I ate chicken curry,
hoped you might come back,
and save my soul,
or sing hallelujah for me.

They made me pray for you,
I didn’t mean it,
I didn’t cry, I never cried again,
but there were more tears of hallelujah.

– L.J. Lenehan –



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