this is my home ...

This is my home
I don't sit on the chairs anymore
Derelicts of sadness stuffed with the acid of failed relationships


The wooden floor is now my bed
 The queen sized paradise of peace in the bedroom still holds the chalk marks of my murdered spirit
It still holds that scent of blood that drips of the razors edge of my curiosity that revealed the truth in every empty promise every suitor has ever told

This floor that holds foot prints
A maze of lies ...sweet lies ...a satisfying emptiness
 I see toe prints that still hide the finger prints of my heart in their bosom
I see these footprints , those on their way in bumping into the ones on their way out

This is my home
I don't invite friends or family
And those that tried to be a friend to me hung rusty crystal chandeliers in the ceiling of friendship
 each crystal falls like a shooting star
Lunging at the soul of my emptiness
But the emptiness is refracted and reflected
And vanishes in pursuit of happiness

The darkness shines so brightly that the footprints on the floor glow

Dishes unwashed
No detergent seems strong enough
Foaming screams and tears weren't adequate enough to remove the stains of kisses framed on the edges of wine glasses
Or our scent that tainted the inner walls of those bowls we ate fruits from

The dust blows freely
Unloading their dirt from the cobweb of baskets cuz spiders are too busy fornicating
The dust blows
The dust swings from the red vines in my eyes until the rain saturates the palm trees

I want to move but all I've ever know is this wooden house
With its cracks and termites
With its warm wood with a heart that's half green and half purple but no one knows that the inner walls of where I live are painted in black

I want to move but all I've ever known is this wooden house that smells of me and my memories of sex , ended relationships , flings , whips and broken dreams , this wooden floor polished by the frustration and the lingering unanswered questions

This house knows me and I know it
I own it
even in the face of its deficiencies I stay faithful

I have dreams of living concrete
But my soul isn't that hard yet
My soul still provides for my exes like termites to eat itty biddy bits of me

I want to move on from this relationship , but all I've ever known was pain...this pain ...this sweet pain ..this satisfying pain

I don't know this so called house of love these ghosts of yesteryear speak of

This is my home
Not suitable for guests
Moulded by tears unseen and untasted by the compassion of familiar faces
this is the place I call the inner me