The Porch Of Your Heart
I’m sitting on a chair, on the porch of your heart, like a guest.
Your heart was my house and my home. I used to belong. Now I don’t have the keys to let myself in.
With a sinking heart, I ring the bell, you say you’ll be out in a minute.
The front door opens, but I can not see inside and then you close it behind you.
I am homeless.
The conversation is brief, about my homesickness and how I’m so lonely.
Not a word from your end, no news about the state of your heart.
I wonder if someone else has stepped inside since I walked out. I wonder if they stayed the night.
Too soon, it is time to go. You give me a smile as you walk back to the front door. My feet lingers on the stairs as my heart longs for a glimpse of your place, but you keep standing with your hand on the doorknob.
I am meant to go.
Go where? I don’t know.
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