The Heart Still Beating

The heart of my family lies here

in the room of imperfections. 

From the faded blue and cream striped couch

to the scratched floors from years of eager paws 

ready to greet the mailman. 

The angry fireplace

spitting out fiery black smoke

and the harsh lines of sharpie marker

disguised by a layer of ugly beige.

Things are hidden here

heavy doors shut so hard I cracked

and years of tears soaked up by shag.

But the sun still shines

through the big bay window

and no matter the damage

the room still stands strong.