The museum of my heart is full of rooms
that describe me
but do not define me.
Walls painted with joy and pain.
Hung with the memories
of family and friends and lovers.
Floors set with mistakes and successes
Ceilings lit with laughter and love.
This museum of my heart is not a place of glass cases,
where you look but do not touch.
It is a place of discovery,
where every corner is interactive
and rooms are added
A growing archive
to how deeply I live
and to how profoundly I love.
All rights reserved.
Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced