maybe it’s difficult to explain,
because i think it’s love
love from a fickle heart and heavy bones
from everything i have been,
everything i am, everything i will be

i only hope that the neon sign
in your heart flickers and glows
with vacancy
the walls chipped and faded
with the works of previous life,
because i know that previous tenants
have struck and ruined and hurt

will i be the same?

should i let go? should my words
spill from my mouth with
the tenderness of the sea? and let
white foam wash the corners of my eyes
the tips of my fingers to wipe away tears

if the center of your heart has been rented out,
moved in by someone who was not me,
and their clothes will crowd the bedroom floor
and photos and books and the things that are yours,
i can’t call them mine anymore