Inside that room, my heart had bloomed.
Never before was there a place.
A place just for me.
A place I felt seen and understood.
A place where I dared to dream of a life just for me. 

Like a ticking time bomb, that door was going to close.
It couldn’t close, not now, not before I finished dreaming.
I desperately tried to stop it.
But there was no use.
That door was going to close. 

I tried to quickly gather everything I could.
Memories, hopes and dreams.
Could I bury them inside my heart?
Could I keep them there as warmth for cold and lonely days?
I had to try so I frantically stuffed it all into the crevices of my heart.

Suddenly, that door slammed closed shattering my heart as it did. 
I collapsed on that floor and wept – for hours or maybe days.
As my weeping quieted, I heard music from within that room.
With that music, the pieces of my heart began to glow.
And just like that, I began to pick up the jagged pieces of my heart.

I paused as I noticed those memories, hopes and dreams among the pieces.
And I thought, maybe, just maybe, they would be enough to keep me warm.
Enough to ignite my heart again.
Enough to give me strength.
Enough to light the way.