The Soul

I live within a safe, warm, and comforting house.
It is not made of
straw,
sticks,
or
bricks
like the little pigs’ houses
but instead,

I am protected by
bones that bend,
organs that pulse,
eyes that flicker,
muscles that flex,
and skin that binds.

But this shell is not what defines me
because

these bones will turn brittle;
these organs will wither;
these eyes will cloud;
these muscles will soften,
and this skin will sag.

My house will fall apart
and I will not be able to stop it.
It will hurt when I have to move out

but

then I will find another body
to borrow
and maybe it will be a little
furrier.