my body is a temple
of burnt ashes
and empty auditoriums.
with echoes of whispers
of a sunken ghost
that sits on my lungs.
with ruins of walls
wrecked after the war
in the late night of December.
with stuttering roof
that shivers under the moonlight
holding on to a fragile support of my loneliness.
my body is a temple.
that no one comes to visit
because it is nothing,
but a haunted house
decorated with pain
and worshipped by none
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cross my heart | poems
Poetry🏅featured on @WattpadPoetry's reading list ❝My fear of being real, of being seen, paralyzes me into silence. I crave the touch and the connection, but I am not always brave enough to open my hand and reach out. This is the greatest challenge; to b...
