I  built this home in your heart with white windows and wooden floors that would creak when we ran around and laughed for hours in the night time.

I built this home in your heart with my very own hands that were intertwined in yours when we sat on the porch to watch the moon paint the sky with boundless constellations.

I built this home in your heart with a garden outside where I planted a tree hoping gradually it would grow even through the fights we would have when you would come home late and always leave the table lights on.

I built this home in your heart with the hope that one day our children would play together in the our backyard where I could sit underneath the tree that grew with each moment we argued saying words we didn’t mean.

I built this home in your heart that fought through the hours of the days when you would disappear from me  and my wandering mind praying you would return soon.

I built this home in your heart held by beams that slowly began to grow old as years passed and I began to push you around the house while you held my wrinkled hands.

I built this home in your heart where the tables and chairs grew dusty with faint memories of the days when we were young and free from all of the problems of the world when there was hope for our souls to flourish and grow.

I built this home in your heart that stopped suddenly on the day when the sky filled with gloomy greys and the clouds began to cry with me as we stood outside the house I had called my own without a heart to call my home.