The empty altar
I built an altar in the hollow of my chest,
And carved your name in bone where beating used to rest.
I light the candles with the fever of my plea,
But you are blind to every flame that burns alive in me.
You drink the water from the well I bled to fill,
And leave me parched and shivering upon a silent hill.
I am a ghost that haunts the edges of your sight,
A moth that turns to ash against your unregarding light.
I stitched my skin into a carpet for your feet,
And count the heavy bruises as a victory, bitter-sweet.
You take the warmth, the breath, the marrow from my spine,
And never once acknowledge that the sacrifice was mine.
So let me rot inside this beautiful decay,
A quiet shadow that you’ll never brush away.
I am the heavy earth you walk upon without a care,
Condemned to love a phantom who was never really there.
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