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 faith.

This poem is about: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741