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209
My Holy Temple
<p>My body, a temple of God, they say,</p><p>A sacred vessel meant to be cherished,</p><p>kept holy, handled with care.</p><p>But how do you respect something</p><p>you cannot even love?</p><p>How do you love something</p><p>when all you see are flaws?</p><p>I see other girls </p><p>spotless, flawless,</p><p>perfect skin, perfect eyes,</p><p>perfect bodies wrapped in effortless light.</p><p>And then there is me,</p><p>standing in the shadow</p><p>of everything I could be,</p><p>everything I am not.</p><p>I find comfort in absence,</p><p>in the things I lack.</p><p>I build fantasies from pieces</p><p>of people I will never become.</p><p>At night, I wander through the internet,</p><p>scrolling through lives that seem perfect.</p><p>Perfect friends,</p><p>perfect love,</p><p>perfect laughter frozen into photographs.</p><p>And though it fascinates me,</p><p>it hurts.</p><p>Because somewhere between their smiles,</p><p>I begin to wonder:</p><p>What is wrong with me?</p><p>What have I done wrong</p><p>to feel so incomplete?</p><p>I look into the mirror</p><p>and catch glimpses of my imperfections,</p><p>my flaws,</p><p>my sins.</p><p>I trace them like scars,</p><p>as though every blemish</p><p>is proof that I am failing</p><p>at being human.</p><p>Yet maybe temples are not beautiful</p><p>because they are flawless.</p><p>Maybe they are sacred</p><p>because they survive storms,</p><p>because they keep standing</p><p>even after being questioned,</p><p>cracked,</p><p>and weathered by the world.</p><p>Maybe holiness was never perfection.</p><p>Maybe it was simply learning</p><p>to stay.</p>
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