your heart is a space

they say 

your heart 

is as big as 

your fist 

but mine is 

bigger on the inside, 

a little hobbit hole 

of kindness, 

cozy 

and full of 

textures 

and soft lighting. 

there is a collection of 

teacups, 

all a little imperfect, 

with scars from the places 

where they’ve been 

broken 

and 

repaired, 

but there are always enough 

to have  

friends over 

any day of the week. 

the library is 

extensive, 

filled with memories 

and letters 

and stories 

and laughter, 

all filed away under 

‘happiness’ 

and 

‘love.’ 

somewhere in the labyrinthine halls, 

there’s a kitchen, too -- 

where else do you make tea? -- 

a place to stir feelings 

into existence. 

(i think it’s  

two doors down 

from the studio 

that’s covered in paint 

and paper scraps 

and glitter 

and words 

and art.) 

but every heart 

has corners 

where shadows settle, 

dustbunnies of 

anxietyandjealousyandfear. 

you never quite 

sweep the place completely 

clean, 

no matter how hard you try. 

that’s why i keep 

a broom 

by the front door, 

ready to sweep away 

the worries 

and make room 

for the sunshine.