Muffled whispers of ancient wood, masquerading as composed bookcases,
I hide her secrets, each page an ode to the unsaid.
Leatherbound murmurs, soft cries of ink pranced on confined sheets
Etched truths stark against tomorrow’s oblivion.
Glass jars dream in colors
of unshed tears of spices, misplaced memories mingling with salt
They yearn to confide their hidden tales, whispered by trapped moons.
Secrets burst like milky stars at the dark rim of their lids.
Bricks of ennui smile stiffly from celestial walls, mortar thickened with
whispered lies and unchecked ambitions
I’m the unspoken witness, pulse of echo resounding in skip, skip, repeat.
Their tight-lipped serenity masks oceans of untold desires.