Temple of My Becoming

You did not rush the ruins of me. You entered gently, Like a prayer whispered In the hollows of a broken chapel. Your touch- Not just desire, But devotion. You traced every scar As though it were scripture. We did not collide, We communed- Your breath a psalm, My sighs an amen Rising from the altar of my ache. Where others only sought fire, You brought warmth. Where I had gone numb, You gave sensation Like sunlight to a frostbitten bloom. And in that sacred rhythm, Bodies bowed but hearts upright, I remembered that Love- True, tender, trembling- Can feel like worship And still leave no bruise. So I opened, Not just my thighs, But my trust. And you entered not to take- But to awaken The woman I'd buried Beneath years of surviving.