Open heart

Her heart was a room filled up to the ceiling. So full, so crowded, she didn't recognize the faces inside anymore. There were three or four people on the same seat, and she couldn't tell who belonged on it. The music playing was interrupted song to song, the light was intermittent. So was the pain and so was the joy. She was not a good hostess, maybe because she continually came in and out of her own heart. The people were bored, sick, tired, desolated. Sometimes she stood blocking the door, others she just threw someone out - to recolect them from the doorstep a while later. There was no sign on the entrance, she should have let them know before they were in that there was no safe way out. Not that it was even their choice to enter, in the first place.