I woke up today and I realized I owned a street.
One which you have walked past, through and on two many times.
How many times did you drive by those network of veins and arteries?
How many times did your words sweep clean the surface of my street?
How many times did you put a dent in my walls and crumble
the dreams that stood like houses
on opposite sides of my heart?
How many portholes have your speeding made on that street I call heart?

You don't even read my heart signs.
Like a traffic offender you drive past
oblivious to the red, orange or green signs.
But someday you'll knock on my door
and it won't open.
Someday, you'll walk past a heavily pregnant me
and wonder if that little bulb of life would have been yours.
Someday you'll reach out for me on a bed and not find me
because you never put a ring on it.

But before then my street is empty.
My dreams still are standing
and I am doing the best I can
to be a good wife and mother.
Before then, I'm still building this street
every hurt, disappointment and cruel word
I'll use to build this heart.
This street shall be called lovely
hope and forgiveness.
until then, keep driving by.
My gates are still open.