i am a home of broken dreams,
a hotel where sorrow checks in constantly,
stays for a few months then leaves as if it was never
a resident in the bitter suite beneath my ribcage and sternum.
bittersweet beneath my ribcage and sternum,
is my crimson heart of pain.
crimson heart of pain leads to
my towels crimson stained.
i am a villa of visitors,
a hotel that greets sorrow everyday.
the villa of visitors who can’t seem to stay-
a vacation home, blissful; brief.
visitors who can’t seem to stay,
even through my most rainy of days.
countless rainy days lead to
the deepest puddles.
i am a hotel of heartbreak,
a hotel in which heartache
is the only guest.
a hotel that knows love, but is void of it.
-j.j.s.s