I have a man living in my heart

I have a man living in my heart. He loves it there.

Though he'd found no welcoming rug at the door

or been offered a seat and something to drink

I like to watch him joyfully saunter around the infinite

seeming space with a child-like wonderment of "all this is mine?"

possessing his face.

I warmly enjoy his appreciative movements

in and around this once hollow gallery,

carefully admiring the walls for what they used to be.

Bare structures to which portraits once readily clung as memories formerly enjoyed.

Not merely to adorn but much to make them look best and not so lonely.

Not once afraid of what he may find;

Stories I'm yet to let him know.

Secrets told, secrets kept.

Loved more for those remembered

Loved nonetheless for those forgotten.

"You are perfection, my love."

He reminds me.

I have a man living in my heart.

He seems to love it here and that's all the peace I need.