A temple once ruined by your sacrilegious dirt, is now renewed. Replenished. Free.

Each pane shattered by what I blindly believed as love, is replaced by those you’ll never see.

3 years I prayed for the agonising weight to dissipate, for your shadow to unlatch from my skin.

But ghosts do not fade on whispered wishes —

they rot in the marrow, nestle within.

Each morning I carved out my silence, etched guttural screams into walls I knew that you would never hear.

For every time you toyed with my worth, my breath,

I rebuilt it, with bricks formed from anger, tiredness, fear.

I drowned in your aftertaste, your hateful poison burning through my tongue.

I tried to spit you out, but you lingered, like a hymn in a language I never sung.

40 months I carried your insecurity as mine, blindsided to thinking that the fault had my name.

But truth is not born from a trembling mouth — it ignites, phoenix from ashes, bittersweet and gloriously aflame.

Seven steps forward, and never shall I turn, no longer your toy, no longer your sin-tarnished prayer.

I tediously gather the pieces you shattered, and sculpt them anew in the open air.

Seven lifetimes would never undo the trauma that is you, but I do not need them to heal.

For I am the temple, whole once again - sacred, untouchable, resilient, beautiful and real.