poetinside

I would let you inside me. No, don’t get excited. I would let you inside. I would let you in, do you understand? But that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere. I’m not vacating the premises. I would let you in and learn to share this messy place with you. I would let you put your feet on the cushions and I would not complain about the water rings from your cocktail glass. I would give you all the keys and disable all the alarms. You could stay while I am sleeping. You could tip toe around in rooms I never use, open cupboards and rummage through junk drawers. You could wonder at all of the things I have accumulated over the years, things I love without reason, things I don’t need. You could clean up messes made by old tenants. Those wandering souls who rested here. Those travelers who took what they needed, who found shelter and warmth before new adventures called them away to happier places. You could sweep out the dust of burned bridges, smooth the cracks in the foundation and learn to love, love, love those dirty handprints and unrepentant stains that mar everything.
I could let you in and make room for you. I could let you in and we could make this crumbling wreck our home.

If I could, I would let you in.