Introverts Dilemma

tender soles
‘Home, is where the heart is’,
or so they say.
So what if my heart is my home?
When I invite you in,
Will you walk in with soiled boots?
Bolt cutters won’t help,
Neither will a ram raid.
You can try as you may with land mines,
Throw a grenade.
Call the fucking army, tell them you have an emergency situation.
You won’t come in by force.
I’d rather set myself aflame,
Than to give of myself to some people.
To allow them to peak through a window.
Uninvited guests, peering in,
Peeping toms, scavengers, thieves,
Looking for what glitters.
What if I am fooling you?
I’m an alchemist like that,
I can make shine what is dull and dull what is shiny.
You wouldn’t know the difference staring in from the outside.
No, I don’t invite you in,
Because you wont take off your shoes.
I need the soft soles of tenderness,
The forgiving eyes of understanding,
The comprehension of the madness of loneliness,
The breath of hope,
The touch of acceptance,
The love of abuse,
The fire of honesty,
The fragrance of familiarity,
The lust of longing.
Then welcome I say,
Mi casa, es su casa,
Close the door behind you,
It’s just the two of us.

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