Your body is a temple.

Like a church, with all your sins,
You came in me.
Not twice, or four times, 
More times than this body,
can bear to remember.-
Each time, falsifying 
Metanoia.
Discordant to many a sanctuary.
This Hull never welcomed you.
At the sense of your reeking shoes, left at the door.
This soul, begged for a higher power, 
To draw out it’s last breath.
Unlike many a sanctuary, 
This body loathed your presence. 
Each time you walked away, 
Another light was burnt off.
Likened much to hell, 
Dark and vulgar.
This hell became home to me.
Tangled in this darkness. 
Bitterness still lives here.
Three years since the last, 
Your scent haunts me. 
Your breath hovers in my sleep.
On some days I feel your shadow, watching me undress.
Intruding my dreams. 
Yes you win, three years later.
I still feel Your grip on my reality 
Three years later, I fight to forget.
But these scars on my body
Could never permit. 
My body still your temple.
My soul yours to torment. 
 

F. Jaravaza