– Through Windows –
The shape of a house is the shape of a heart.
Too many times I have rearranged myself
for the spaces of others,
while I am left crushed to corners,
moving through rooms ever smaller,
pushing my being ever farther backward
into the safety of these walls.
There are no locks on my life with you.
I hardly have a door to keep you out from me
when I am in need of privacy,
and I cannot stop you from walking away,
walking over me again and again,
until my own path is worn too thin,
stripped bare from your endless pacing.
I seek to look through open windows,
to see the world outside turned inward,
and all my rooms filled with golden light.
There is warmth in me when needed,
and though I am bitterly cold
when locked outside of you,
I am able to walk freely away
when your heart becomes too small.