My house

I have truly missed the process of writing so let's get right into it.


Imagine me as a house.  On the outside, I had fresh paint, a nice lawn and lilies lined up my walkway. Imagine me on a quiet street, a house not for sale.


But inside, I only had a couch and a television - something like a bachelor pad.  My floors were scratched up, my walls wore chipped paint but it was my house, my little empty house. Where did all my stuff go, you ask?  I feel like my visitors kept borrowing things and not bringing them back and before I knew it, all I had left was this couch and television.  Because the visitors themselves kept coming back, I didn't realize that my stuff wasn't.  I guess I was distracted.


But then he comes along, he being some handsome, mysterious yet familiar guy.  He's undeniably a work of art but I can only see him from my window.  I have the padlock, the alarm and a homegirl standing outside watching the camera to make sure that no more intruders borrowers come along.  I've been talking to him from my porch for quite some time, but I'm not ready to let him up my walkway.  I don't trust it and I'm scared.  My morals are falling to the wayside like panties at a Trey Songz concert.  I don't want this man anywhere near me unless he's planning to be there forever.  That's a big demand but if he's half as amazing on the inside as he is on the outside, the loss might kill me.  Foreclose this house because it will be more than just a hardship for me, a b.tch will be bankrupt. 


But my homegirl is weak and she's a sucker for dimples and dark skin.  So she lets him up the walkway and convinces me that I have nothing to fear, that whatever I've been doing hasn't been working so maybe I should try something new and he's pretty new.  I open my door three inches just so I could take a better look at him up close and I can smell his cologne through the crack.  I don't even want to let him in so he stands at the door for a few days, weeks and months.  I can't just let him see my television and my couch and I don't have the money or the time to buy back the things I've lost.  What am I going to do?  


I finally let him in for what I think will be a few nights and it ends up being a lifetime.  He brings things, things I never even had before, things I didn't ask him for.  He furnishes my house and together we build a home.  But it isn't easy.  We fight about how to assemble things and we disagree about where to put them but there is an unwavering gratitude and respect for a man who doesn't walk around with empty hands.


Yes, my house is empty but my home, our home is complete.