My Body is a Temple

Mon, 04/15/2019 - 18:05 -- cfrager

My body is a temple – WAS a temple. It was grand, covered top to bottom in tarnished, fool’s gold. Outside, the front steps were lined with torn, red carpet; the red from the blood that poured from the mind of a girl who could not leave the temple.

The floor was covered in fake diamonds, every inch of the walls covered in paintings that depicted every moment that I have experienced in my life. Each day the temple grew and each day, the gold tarnished more, the carpet became a deeper shade of red and the girl was faced with even more pain, but the people didn’t notice. To an outside view it was a spectacle, “Oh everyone LOVES it at the temple,” they’d boast. However the temple had cobwebs growing on every doorframe, a soul hadn’t left or entered in centuries.

 The temple spontaneously burned to the ground one day, the girl trapped inside crumbled with it and the memory of the temple as well as the girl would be faint in the minds of others.

From the ashes rose a boy.

A boy wearing deep purple and pale blue. A boy SCREAMING a war cry. From where he rose fell pure gold, he was surrounded by a soft, red carpet and the paintings on the walls came to life.

People from all over came to witness the rising of the boy. He greeted all with warm smiles and words of kindness. When all was calm again, the boy faced himself in the mirror. Not expecting to see her. She looked depressed, her skin almost gray. Asleep in an ugly, broken coffin on the floor at his feet. The lid was off and each time he looked at her he felt a pain in his chest.

The boy reached down, placed roses in the girl’s arms, and covered the girl’s coffin with a lid. With this, he felt free. He did not weep for the girl, because he could accept that she existed, unlike the others.

The girl eventually disappeared from the minds of everyone except the boy. The temple thrived and the boy made himself known to the world.

HIS BODY IS A TEMPLE. HE DUSTED OFF THE COBWEBS AND HE WILL NEVER DISAPPEAR FROM THE MEMORIES OF OTHERS.

HE WILL ONLY RISE HIGHER AND GROW STRONGER,

AND HIS NAME

IS CHARLIE. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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