She Wrote:

lifes-simple-questions:

Not many people are permitted to see the intimate corners and crevices of my soul. I don’t like allowing anyone to have such a powerful hold over me. But I do let almost everyone into the main auditorium of my heart, where they can look around or stay for as long as they like. Only a fraction of these guests will ever see the narrow hallways, hidden rooms, and secret closets that make up the entire structure of my being. The last person that managed to coax the key out of my grasp and enter the protected corridors left a huge mess that I’m still trying to clean up. He broke some windows, but he also fixed some doors, and he left some boxes that are too heavy for me to remove. But that’s okay, because I put all of the things he left into one room and closed the door.  It’s his room now, and he earned it by being the only one to ever set foot in it. I’m not going to lock the door though, I don’t want to forget or hide anything, besides, sometimes I still sneak in and look around to see if anything has changed. Sometimes there’s a crooked picture or a book that’s fallen off its shelf. I straighten them and occasionally rearrange the scattered boxes, looking inside briefly. Sometimes the broken window lets in beautiful streams of light, but other times a frigid wind barges in, threatening to topple me over. Regardless, at the end of each visit I take one last look and quietly close the door. His name is engraved in the frame, and I slowly trace each letter with my fingers, imagining it’s his face, and remembering why he is no longer here, breathing on my neck and reaching to grab hold of my questioning fingers. 

-jacquimccarty