I bought myself flowers, red African daisies and white chrysanthemums, because I deserve them.
I lit two rose shaped candles and watched three flies flutter around the room.
There were birds chirping, two wicker baskets, half a light blue vase. A powdered sugar shaker and bright yellow oven mitts. A fake plant.
A breeze drifted in from the open window, carrying the conversations of the 200+ humans who live in numbers 11,13,15,17.
I tucked my feet beneath myself on the couch, wearing my light blue nightgown, wrapped in my pale cream robe.
I stared. Straight ahead.
I thought. I wondered. And I realized, I had created a beautiful moment for myself.
It was all for me.
I found beauty, and I kept it all to myself.
So I sing a lullaby. Softly and sweetly I whisper the tale of two broken hearts, and gently I lay the story to rest. At least for today. At least for tonight.
“A love like this is seen no more, secrets kept in my heart for years, images between silence, between words, a broken heart becomes a song, silence becomes a melody.” Idan Raichel