if my heart was a house the walls would be barren, swept clean of photos and color.
the outside weed grown and paint chipped off
and the windows shake and rattle when gentle breezes pass.
if my heart was a house the mantle would be frosted with memory’s dust, and the fridge cleaned off leftovers tenderly prepared.
but deep.
deep in the house, the seed of painted walls and posters remain, cozy bed sheets and fairy lights, things of home and solace.
awaiting the sunlight of love or the hydration of peace....and there it will stay.
