It's been a long time since I've been here -
this place looks so different now.
I want to make amends to these ruins,
but my tongue isn't quite sure how.

Can we kiss the scars of time?
Heal the broken years scattered on the floor?
Can we tread softly over stained memories
and promise we will stain them no more?

This cathedral was never holy;
I have never been a righteous place -
but I swear both God and the Devil have
cast their shadows over my aging face,

and now, as I stand here, breathing,
on the same ground in which I thought I'd be buried,
I wonder if all haunted things feel like this -
broken and stubborn but proud of what they've carried.

It's been a long time since I've been here -
and I see it so much more clearly now.
I've already been forgiven by these bones -
for this is the place of loving darkness finding its ground.

I am a haunted church,
but my god, am I still standing.