Closets of Suffocation
It’s dark.
It’s cold.
And I’m alone.
It smells of bad ideas and regret.
The dust is suffocating me.
The clothes tempt me.
I want to dress up and leave.
I can’t see, but I’ve sorted the clothes.
I just need to pick an outfit.
What should I wear?
I put on outfits.
Day and night, it’s all I do.
I think I look good.
But I can’t see.
Through the cracks of the door.
I see the light.
But I also see shadows.
The shadows keep me locked.
I’m scared.
I see light.
Just a glimmer through the crack in the door.
But a glimmer isn’t enough.
I need to wait.
It’s too soon.
I’ll just take a look.
A breath of air before I’m suffocated again.
I open the door less than an inch.
The shadows attack.
I’m blinded and I fumble.
I take my torch and stick it in their faces.
The shadows retreat.
I close the door.
And I cry.
Why, why, why, why, why?
I’m in the closet.
It’s cold, and dark, and lonely.
But I’m scared to come out.