Compartments

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Compartments

An independent woman

Does not easily integrate

The pieces of her life in compartments

Borne of necessity

Her children, once her reason for existing,

Their compartment:  ‘Unconditional Love’

Her career, her fuel, her distraction, her success

Its’ compartment:  ‘Accomplishment’

Her house (has she ever had a home?)

A nesting in progress, a need, home

Its compartment:  ‘Shelter’

Your time, a precious commodity

Her selfish need

Its compartment:  ‘Warmth’

Your love

Your… love?

She pushes it aside, the discomfort alarms her

As she anxiously shuffles compartments

The click-click of the key in the tumbler

Her heart, the resistant receptacle

Debris from the past

Taking up space

Where you belong

She sweeps at the remains in one frustrated motion

The pain blows back, like ashes in the wind

Persistent reminders

Vestiges of memory, she gathers

Placing them in a separate box

Labeled  ‘The Past’

She will visit it only as needed

To clean the compartment, bit by bit

Ridding herself of the damaging debris

The useless drudgery of their failures

Abuse, heartache

Will not co-exist with love

Nor will she allow the damage to permeate

Only one key allows entry

The cylindrical lock aligned

Allowing rotation

Swinging inward, open

This compartment ‘Her Heart’

Most fragile of them all

With shaking fingers

She gives it to you.

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