I used to think that love ment vacancy.
so i carved out my body,
left me hollow and empty.
Set up a bed in my rib cage,
auctioned off my teeth to
buy a new rug,
shed my skin and made it a coat,
hung it on the dresser carved
from my bones,
and waitied for you.
But I know now that love isn't an empty room,
waiting for a lonely travler to take shelter.
My love is whole for I am whole.
And while I no longer carve out my insides,
I still expect to fix some of these leaky pipes,
and to replace creaking floorboards.
For love is a mutual growth.
A symbiotic relationship where
the tar in hearts are replaced with seeds,
and flowers poke from every chamber.