Corridors of time.
All of them mine.
Made for everyone I meet.
Some stretch on for years, circling my world.
Some are merely seconds; a step's distance.
Some make my heart ache.
Everyone's is different, just as people are.
Although, some are alike in ways; constructed with similar tile, paint on the walls, lights - giving off the same warmth.
But not all feel warmth:
Some tile is uncomfortably cold to walk barefoot on.
Some of the walls are painted black.
Some have no light at all.
As if my mind is trying to erase them out.
Blend them in with the space that is time.
love, H
