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skeletons in my closet


the skin is so tender there,

so soft, so smooth.

i’m surprised at how easily it

opens for me.

like grating cheese

or cutting off a pat of butter.

it just opens up ~

yielding ~

and offers my inner secrets to

the bathroom tile.

and out seep my skeletons,

and cascade to my feet

like a little gothic convention

gathering in the night.

and they

drip. drip. drip.

down to the ground

as though they have jumped from the

highest cliff


into the sea of grief

and sorrow

which is myself

and my skin.

and my bathroom floor.

which is now collecting these

secretive, skeletal remains

and is busy hiding the secrets

in cracks and


a splash here, a splash there,

a little sticky clump on the

sink, even.

it clumps up so fast, into

stringy little ropes, which makes

me wonder ~

are the skeletons trying to

form a rope on purpose?

are they trying to climb back


into my head to keep

hiding from the world?

or are they just trying to kill me?

‘cuz i can do that myself.

my dungeon

it’s getting harder and harder to hide

my dark secrets.

i run to my hidey-hole

and find it’s full.

i open the hidden door

and the skeletons start to fall into

the aisles of my life.

shoving them back in is hard work

and takes a toll on me.

must i find another spot to go?

all my caches

and closets

and secret passageways

are flowing over…

and while it’s hard to imagine

exposing it all to the light,

where else am i to put

my innards

now that the dam has burst

and there isn’t enough space in

my dungeon?