Poetry Sessions: Corpse Closet

 

He whispered, “I love you.”

I whispered back the same.

My eyes welled up with tears of disgust. 

We were standing in front of each other. Just he and I.

In a small box shaped, bland white room. no decorations in sight.

Next to us stood a large splintered door once beautifully carved, painstakingly engraved to perfection. 

Through its years of tear, the 6foot door now faded in color, and molded in texture. 

Embodying our trust, our love and our future. 

Behind hid every lie, every hypocritical statement, every control tactic and every deceitful action.

I stood in front of the man that I secretly hated, disregarding the putrid smell oozing from behind the closet door. Throbbing in the same rhythm as a broken heart, the past banging off the hinges begging to be freed. 

Rotting bodies symbolizing the nightly rendezvous, dead desires and decaying love. 

I stood in front of him as he reiterated his fake love for me.

 I nod my head robotically.

I squint my eyes in distrust, trying to imagine a better man, a better life and an easier way out.

He pulled me in closer, whispering in to my deafened ears. Selling tales of adoration with a nonchalant undertone. 

My stomach turned, as redundant energy fluctuates from the top of my spine, back down to the bottom. 

He asked me to look in to his eye. I refused.

Instead I walked over to our fading wooden side table drawer to grab a paintbrush. 

I flipped back the top, examining the brightly colored paint options, contemplating which facade I wanted to portray today. 

I turned my back to him, carefully painting on my new smile, adding on to it some new eyes. 

We joined hands as we walked over to the Corpse filled closet.

Hammering on a nail a day, to keep the destruction at bay. 

P.S. A metaphorical corpse closet symbolizes all of the hurt, secrets and untold personal truths we hide away deeply in our subconscious. What we all fail to realize is that everything, no matter how deeply buried will always float to the surface. This poem is dedicated to every person who pretends to be satisfied in a controlling, expiring, DEAD relationship. Have a great weekend guys! 

 

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