You are my temple, the one I visit each day;
Your golden shades wave from a distance,
Your windows look out to the world, yet hide
What’s within.

Your marble walls show strength,
With fine lines and cracks on side,
Yet you are still beautiful to me.

Your doors, once open to all, have now been shut,
Innocence transformed into heinous mockery
By an act of violent intrusion by another’s hand.

And my worship must now be visual,
I leave you be, for you may shun me,
Not out of hate but precaution and fear.

I will wait for you as you heal,
As the cracks begin to heal and form stories,
As the minutes make you wiser and stronger,
As the memory loosens its grip on you,
I will wait for you as you heal.

Let me offer you the gift of time,
And if you wish, allow me to restore you—
Don’t let this temple be destroyed by your
Inner tempest.

And when the tempests come, I will stand with you,
I will take the rain upon my cheeks and stay here,
Until the tempests pass.

And when the tempests go and the sky arrive,
I will be here and I will wait for you,
Until the day comes when you are well
And I have your permission to enter.

My body has become a devout follower of your religion
My mind resists your charms, yet it knows of the power you hold
I cannot dream without want of holding you,
I cannot dream without want of being near you
I cannot dream of sleep, when such reality exists.

When I awoke, your taste lingered on my lips,
Your touch left tattoos all over my skin.
If only I could see your carnage, to revel in it!
I fantasize about your fingers tracing my skin
And your lips burning a scar onto my *******.
Why are fantasies intangible and temporary?

The compression grip of longing grabs my heart
And squeezes it.
It occurs whenever I ponder on a life I have not
Lived yet or a feeling that I long to experience.
Whenever I feel incomplete or unsure,
Or need reassurance; it comes and goes
Like a summer breeze.
But the beat goes on and on.

Never have I felt the warmth of day
Graze upon this sunken face;
The swaying breeze escapes my ears
And does not assuage my growing fear.
The gay day is covered in black,
Never again to show its shades.

Custom phantoms cross my mind
That keep me livid through the night;
While the moonshine becomes my daylight,
Darling morning hurts my eyes.
Night is night and night is day,
For the two have failed to separate.

Ghostly figures have my heart—
Timeless sleep ripens my pain,
Enterprises of lost rest haunt
Restless souls as myself.

Lovely day is now my death,
Faithful night is now my life,
Night is day and day is night,
Night is night and night is night.

I wish to kiss you, to use my tongue as a painter would use a brush.
I long to write poems on your skin and trace verses on your heart,
To caress you as a sculptor smoothing out the edges.
Let me explore you. Just explore.
Without any thought of destination.
Just explore.