What does it mean skeletons in the closet?
What does it feel like to hide in the dark,
amongst the cobwebs of spinning white lies
and being caught up in the intricate traps of pleasing society.
No one knows who you are until you laugh and love and show
your true colours under the red haze of white wine.
Fizzing glasses, champions cheer you on deeper into
your crowded closet.
Company never comes calling except from the depths and abysses
that keep chasing and racing, pacing after you.
Shadows your company, the darkness that keeps growing on you,
around you and over you.
Atoms that suffocate you slowly and lowly.
Skeletons in the closet, bone chilling,
bone cracking rattling and breaking
under the strain of coming into the light.
The more that you hide,
the harder it gets to bury your past and present together.
I never knew graves could be so deep, until you start digging
and the sides keep growing around you.
Until the sky seems further away like a speck of grey dust
glinting in the horizon of a setting moon.
Glancing at the closet, fearing when the decayed, bleached white bones
will finally spill out.
Keep a lock on your closet’s skeletons.