When you asked for my heart
I gave all four chambers to you.
I painted the walls and hung each picture to your exact specifications.
I put in new carpet and vacuumed the drapes and tilted the couches like so.
And when everything was perfect you moved in, and I finally felt at home.
Then one day you decided to leave but my heart was still made for you.
Still is in fact furnished
just the way you left it.
And when I bring people over, it doesn't quite feel the same.
Because now my heart is a house
not a home.
The chambers are painstakingly empty
waiting for your return.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
When you asked for my heart
I gave all four chambers to you.
I painted the walls and hung each picture to your exact specifications.
I put in new carpet and vacuumed the drapes and tilted the couches like so.
And when everything was perfect you moved in, and I finally felt at home.
Then one day you decided to leave but my heart was still made for you.
Still is in fact furnished
just the way you left it.
And when I bring people over, it doesn't quite feel the same.
Because now my heart is a house
not a home.
The chambers are painstakingly empty
waiting for your return.