They say that home is where the heart is,
If I have no heart,
I would therefor have no home.
Yet the heart is a compulsory mechanism,
It controls the entire body,
Without it we would not function,
It pumps
And pumps,
And pumps,
And pumps,
From the moment we are conceived,
To the moment we die.
Situated beneath our chests,
The only physical place a literal heart can be,
But mine resides on my sleeves,
not metaphorically,
But literally,
Beyond any possibility.
Exposed,
Unprotected,
Fragile,
And out of sync.
It defies Biology,
Physics,
And chemistry.
With this theory in mind,
Perhaps I cannot call it a heart,
Knowing where it is logistically.
Perhaps I am just different,
But I must accept,
That it is what it is,
A little complicated.
I am unable to love myself,
Which suggests I have no heart,
Unable to find my home,
Which suggests I have no heart,
But I am beyond capable of loving you,
Which means I may have a heart after all.
Ignore the location of my silly heart,
Just embrace the love that I have for you,
Give to you,
Feel for you,
Share with you.
I am unable to function as one alone,
Desperate to love and be loved in return,
And whilst I clink and clank through my life,
Like “The Tin Man” from “The Wizard of Oz”,
Perhaps I will discover that I did indeed have a heart all along,
And my home is in each and every one of you.
I love you,
You and your whole and uncomplicated heart’s,
And you,
You are my home!

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