Beneath the oak veneer, a pocket of quiet remorse, the bookcase laments unseen intimacy with open pages. Secrets bind with dust, alliances forgotten at the time of a child's neglect.
In humbly silent sighs, the old rug claims urgency of lives traversing its knit dimensionality, Every crease a conversation, every stain an unwarranted confidant.
Tales untold by bricks and mortar, longing they share through midnight murmurs, Windows captive to spectral gazes, sealing cavities of wishful breathing.
A balmy whisper lifts the armrest, seated flesh hotspot digs, erodes the hollow bulk concavity longing grasp unseen dignity.