Falling in love
is one of the most frustrating terms I have ever heard that ‘they’ came up with
and yet it’s the only thing that I can say
to explain this black hole residing in the pit of my stomach.
And all I want to do is put up a for sale sign where my heart is,
but I don’t think anyone else would want to feel this way.
I know I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.
My walls have come tumbling down one too many times;
my bricks made out of lies rather than love.
They are no longer painted blue, because like Holly,
I recognize that those are the days when you feel a bit bloated
and there is no ice cream left in the freezer.
Instead the walls of my heart are painted a mean red;
so dark it would take a few tries to get it off.

The floor is falling through and the roof is caving in.
let’s face it, my heart is in desperate need for a fix,
if only I could figure out where to start.
This heart is starting to look less like a home and more like an *****,
because my idea of a home left when you packed up your things
and decided you didn’t want to stay.