In my heart/home

No one could ever to have a key to my heart. There's no lock. It's all too open. And it's been rummaged through by too many before. I'm trying to tidy the place up, a nice little home. Stay a while if you'd like. If you're comfortable. But I know you'll leave like everyone else. And you'll take all the pretty things I put in there for you with you. Oh there'll never be pictures of us for me. You'll get to decide what gets put where, and pictures just wouldn't do. Proof. That's what you call it. Proof that you were there. I call it a way to remember when you leave. To remember that you were there. In my home. In my heart.