Where’s the one who loves you?
That hollowed church remains hallowed after so many years,
covered in graffiti paint declaring the resounding message of, 
“I was here”.
We were all here at times,
We were all loved and loving at times.
At times, we felt how vacant a person can feel.

Concrete rubble and zapped electrical wires
under the wind and the rain unstopped,
the roof opened up to the heavens
And the heavens opened up to it.
A classic case of the dead wanting to be alive,
And the alive wanting to be dead -
jealous ghosts living between envious, decaying walls.

Lonely ribs with gutted heart and lungs,
these outlines of those inhabitants still remain.
Dirt sunken under infamous weight
and heartbeats echoing in some recent memory
to a familiar sound that we all know,
looming to the repetitious rhythm of,
“Where’s… the one… who loves… you?
Where’s… the one… who loves… you?
Where’s… the one… who loves… you?”