i take down the things i try to build.

I woke up to a cold summer morning, too careful not to make a false move. If I did, I would wake a heart that wants rest. I could spend the next three hours between the covers or get off the bed and warm myself with a cup of coffee. But I was sure of my pick.

Everything was a blur except from the clock that reads forty-eight minutes before six. I have seen them twenty-four hours ago but with heavier eyes and a stormy weather. I could wake my dead soul with a single lift of a finger but my heart wasn’t ready yet.

I could only move my head from the clock to the ceiling. The cracks in its walls reminded me of my own scars. One more try, I whispered in a low voice. Just one more try.

I will build a new home in me.