Only at night as I stretch myself out on my narrow bed that I allow my mind to think the impossible.
With each toss and turn I imagine alternate realities where we’re not bound by time, space, and common sense. Only in the darkness of these four walls can I breathe easy and recall memories of honey sickles and canon balls of long ago summer days when the word ‘future’ only applied to adults.
Over time, my heart has been chipped and chiselled to the point of near dilapidation. To the point where it stands like some ruins of an ancient city that was once great. Only I can repair the damage that’s done.
My own do-it-yourself project, I quietly think to myself before turning again in this bed that isn’t mine. No man, drug, or friend’s well intentioned advice can help this time. Nervous and doubtful as I am, I grip harder onto the caulk in my hand and slowly go to work filling the spaces of my heart with my own love. A stronger substance than I could have ever imagined.