Your Body Is Like A House Poem by Mark Heathcote

Your body is like a house, my love.
My love, your body is like a house.
Each room makes a home.
And its mortar mix holds my soul
Each finger interlocks a gift, my life- my wife.

Your body is like a house, my love.
My love, your body is like a house.
The fittings move,
The walls crumble
Then, all at once, the roofs collapse.

There are moths in the fire grate
Swirling ashes of days long lost
And a nostalgic shadow that tiptoes away
That motionless wants to dance and play
And not just silently inveigh
You were still here just yesterday.