There is a house by the sea

 

that doesn’t exist.

 

I know because I made it in a powerpoint.

 

It has rooms for you and rooms for me and rooms for guests and a really nice stairway.

 

It’s spacious and tidy, filled with nautical touches and goofy nicknacks 

 

frankensteined together from other houses already occupied

 

that I found on google. 

 

 

It stands in a town where fishermen set sail early every morning 

 

and I walk down to the market to buy our breakfast while you sleep in. 

 

There are dreary alleys and a little stout lighthouse that I pass every morning

 

on my way to the market.

 

It’s a tiny town, where we live

 

And it’s always summer sprinkled with fall. 

 

And we spend our days in the beautiful house I frankensteined together

 

in a powerpoint.

 

 

And when I showed you the powerpoint, you laughed.

 

And you didn’t see the rooms I hid; your rooms.

 

Because who would want to live in my frankensteined house by the sea 

 

where you can hear the ocean from every room. 

 

 

And when you left, I put your rooms back in their places. Because if it isn’t real, it doesn’t matter.