i am not a cathedral.
not anymore.
if i ever was,
the glass is shattered,
the altar is scorched,
and the choir is long gone.
but still—
these wrecked walls echo with your name.
still, every crack is filled
with the sound of your laughter.
still, i kneel at what’s left of myself
and offer you the ruin.
people leave when it gets ugly.
they want the sunlight version,
the pretty hymn,
the clean page.
but you—
you stayed.
you walked barefoot across the rubble,
hands bleeding from the broken glass,
and still you said my name
like it was worth saying.
and so i am yours.
not the polished version.
not the mask i wear for strangers.
but the body that trembles,
the mouth that fails,
the skin that carries
every ugly night.
i’ve kissed destruction,
called it salvation.
danced with knives
and blamed the blood on bad luck.
i’ve let whole years collapse
because i couldn’t crawl out of bed.
but when i look at you,
somehow—
the ruin feels like soil.
like maybe something broken
can still grow.
so take it.
take the bones,
the ash,
the hollow places where faith
used to live.
i won’t pretend to be whole,
won’t sell you redemption.
all i have is this wreck,
this devotion,
this vow scratched out
in cigarette smoke and
half-drunk prayers.
i am yours.
not when it’s easy,
not when it’s pretty,
but here,
now,
in the ruins of me.
where the ceiling leaks,
where the ghosts sing,
where the floor might give out
at any second—
here is where i love you most.
and if you stay—
if you take my hand in this rubble—
i’ll build you a throne out of the broken parts.
i’ll make the ruin sing for you.
i’ll make every scar a vow,
every fracture a psalm.
because even in the ruins,
especially in the ruins,
i am yours.
izzy806
jacobvanloon
ellievsbear
jbbartram-illu
origamiaround
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
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