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. 
 
c

crisscross

NY

17 years old

More by crisscross

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  • Poetry

    By crisscross

    Release

    She was born in the radiation era, 
    A veil of marble covers her eyes,

    Her lids webbed in waves: 

    They were stitched too tight

    to permit the penetration 

    of the perpetrator.

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  • Poetry

    By crisscross

    supernova

    when a star dies, it is a violent explosion.

    it can emitt more light than an entire solar system.

    and while it pulses with hot gas and blue light,

    it slowly dims. until its remnants are scattered

    Read More