Behind the Closet Doors

Don’t look
behind the
closet door!

Beware the dollhouse windows,
they could crack any second.
I told you I’m mysterious, but
not meant for people’s eyes to
see. Do you ever inquire me?

My skin was sucked on by leeches.
I have been affected immensely
because of plastic people I know
biting penny-pinching pronouns
when they sleep. Do you sleep?

If I am a fortress, and meeting
you is a phenomenon, what role
do you play inside my excursion?
You not much of a talker. I admire
your status. Did you realize that?

Behind the closet door, isn’t a very
pleasant place for the lonely or any
banshee demons like you. It’s the
honest truth, I’m sworn to secrecy,
unable confess. Are you scared yet?

Trembling isn’t a good sign of health.
You’re showing me you’re becoming
a little more than uneasy. Now, I’m
getting fearful you won’t emit your
silence to me again. Why do you shake?

Okay, okay, I’ll whisper everything you
want to hear—only if you speak aloud.
I need to listen to what a genuine human
really sounds like. I never heard one
who didn’t slander. Will you shout?

Oh boy, you’re getting tense, but you
finally made the effort to say something
small. You’re curious now. I can feel
it in your filmy eyes. I smile. You smile.
I think you’re brave. Define valor for me.

I tell you I’m achluophobic. You’re a bit
hesitant to accept or reject me, but
somehow there’s a hint of a empathy.
I guess my childhood wasn’t as pretty
as yours I suppose. You’re peculiar.


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