Empty House/ Empty Heart Poem by Ron Poetry

An empty heart is like an empty house... Even when they've moved on....
There remains something, indefinable and invaluable,
left behind in an empty house; once the boxes are packed and sealed,
the trucks loaded, the tedious inventory and heavy hauling halted, the obligatory labor dutifully fulfilled,
something remains, standing on its own, without feet nor measure,
apart from that human sense of accomplishment.
Something undeniable. Something I cannot resist.
Something that lays itself upon the silence without body nor motion.
Something unseen before now, appearing before my eyes in crisp, full view.
Once the accumulated clots of clutter are removed
blood flows, in vigorous currents, throughout the
cleansed arteries of an impeccable empty house.
A house void of pots and pans, potted plants,
silver cutlery and crystal ware, plates,
clothes, loungers, divans, televisions, microwaves
comforters, mattresses, box springs and bedposts, ETC.
A house void of possession and convenience.
A house full of measureless, indivisible empty space.
Except you get no security deposit back on a empty heart..
-Ron Poetry