Keys

Dear You,

Often I worry, that this old house
is too big for you to find me in,
and that you'll give up
for an easier venture,
rather than pursuing after me.

And sometimes I worry
that the windows of my history
that still remain open
will cause too much of a draft
for you to be happy here.

Will my love letters,
and my loyal devotion
be enough for a man
who will see all my brokenness,
and who know my every fear?

Will the rooms be big enough
for you to feel at home,
inside this old house of a heart,
that I've invited you into,
not to visit, but to live?

Will you see my haunting memories
as heavy bags to carry,
or beautiful stories
of victories much bigger than myself,
that you are privileged to share?

Oh I must believe,
that you will find me,
and find me lovely.
And I will find you worthy
of a set of keys

to this heart.

Love, Me.