heretic (07/12/19)

my body is a temple.

he comes to worship nightly.

slams these doors wide open

knowing they were only expecting him.

 

my body is a temple.

he bounds inside,

starving for my holy water.

feels me on his tongue and can't help but drink up.

 

my body is a temple.

he steps inside slower now,

looking like he forgot the words

to all of my hymns.

 

my body is a temple,

but i think he might be

losing his religion.

This poem is about: 
Me
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