My home bears nothing that is broken. You walk in through the door Into a carpeted room With neatly arranged board games and A spotless desk, waiting to be worked on. The couch has no animal fur, Though the cat purrs at you. And the rugs thrown over them are undisturbed. The glasses on the coffee table are still upside down. And the water jug has no messy prints on it. The glass shelves play host To knickknacks Trophies and books Which never made it on the bestseller shelf. There are no pictures though. I love paintings and that's it. The kitchen looks inviting. I designed it to be so. And a dummy would know what goes where The moment he would look around. My stove top is clean and the pans are scrubbed. There is a faint hint of basil in the air From the last pizza slice I just heated. The silverware is all shiny and have no pairs. As if I worked on all my mother's recipes To make them for just one person. The refrigerator is not empty and there is nothing In it that I don't like. The bedroom opens to a view of a park. I like watching the kids play in the sand pit. They seem..carefree. as if the math homework will be dealt with After an hours playtime. My light lamp needs to be replaced. I like to read in bed and I keep on moving it On the table and accidentally falling it over, eventually. You see, would I have had someone to whisper the words On my nape as I read them I wouldn't fiddle with the lamp so much. The bed is perfectly made. The quilt is crisply tucked in at the edges and the sheets smelled fresh from the dryer The layers of bedding keep the cold out, but it is not warm in there. The other end of the bedroom Opens to a balcony. There are stories there that I cannot sit through their telling. You see, they are so broken.. My eyes give in to this facade of being okay And the tears coming uninvited. Like, I said, My home bears nothing that is broken.