Aftermath.

One time,

I built something. I built something like a house.

I built it with my own hands.I did it myself.

I put up walls. I fixed boundaries.

I hammered things, even if they didn't quite fit, together.

It looked beautiful from the outside.

It was colorful. It was new. It was exciting.

I put up pictures.

I created memories.

I displayed the very best of times.

I unpacked my suitcase.

I filled the closet and the drawers.

I planned to stay a while.

I thought it was strong.

I thought it would withstand anything.

I thought wrong.

The very first storm destroyed it.

At first it was a small leak, barely noticeable.

I tried to fix it using myself. But my sacrifices weren't enough.

Soon the holes were everywhere, obvious.

The very first storm destroyed it.

The foundation was weak.

There was no cement.

I had forgotten to wait for it to dry.

I built a house on sand.

The very first storm destroyed it.

Everything fell apart around me.

The nails that I had driven stung.

The pieces I tried to make fit, never could.

The aftermath was the worst. Only the truth survived.

I discovered that I had been building all alone.

Once,

I built something. I built something like a relationship.

I built it with my own heart. I did it to myself.