notre dame

Your body, the cathedral, in which I am a nun. 
I miss how your skin feels, the stained glass sorcery
that I am still decoding.
Senseless worship, I am blinded by my belief in you.

They harvested my heart, left with my
blood splatter, dried on your left shoulder,
Something your mom calls a birthmark. 

i hate the permanent tint in my cornea now,
the way i can’t hate you. 
and the way that this is goodbye. 

goodbye. 
 

crisscross

NY

16 years old

More by crisscross