My heart is getting colder.
perhaps because the house is cold;
perhaps because I have bled for too long without so much a word of hope.

And when my heart begins to feel cold, I know that it is resentment and anger settling in, finding a cozy spot in my living room, helping themselves to my refrigerator.

Why? How did they again find a way into my heart? How did it again get cold?

I know how that feels. I have had it before. It begins with extreme pain and uncontrollable sobs. Then it slowly turns into tears that stream down my face unstoppably. Ultimately, the tears get old because the pain never subsides.

And the tears are not transparent and salty... no, not the tears of my heart. Those tears are red, dark red, thick, rich with love, hurt love, crushed futures, abandoned lives, guilt, and shame. And they are so red and so thick that if the flow is not stopped with a touch, a look, a hug, a word, then hope dwindles and anger sets its footing at my door.

I cannot leave my heart open, bleeding, hoping, hanging.

I don't have that much blood!

I must close the door! Because the cold air gets in and tightens its grip on my throat.

And so the thoughts of ending this chapter and beginning a new one crawl.

My heart is getting colder... I think it's time to close the door.



Verónica
(and I write all these with never ending tears running down my face)