I’ve lived in your heart for a minute now.
And though I love it here,
the faucet leaks,
the door doesn’t shut right
sometimes I have to hold a hand to it
just to lock it back.
When you drink, the space between your ribs
tightens, and your liver expands.
The neighbors aren’t so bad.
They keep to themselves.
When they see me, we talk about
how high the rent is,
how much we don’t get in return for the association fees,
how often we wake up to notices on our door
about late payments
always knocking like the police.
For this reason, I don’t attend any of the meetings.
But I don’t want to leave.
I’ve lived in your heart for a minute now
long enough to sleep through the creaks
when it settles,
long enough to know that home is where my heart is.
Forever isn’t a day here.
It stretches into the way you snore
when you think no one is listening
probably my favorite sound