have you ever listened to the lonely echoes of a dusty clock? tick and tock, a heartbeat of rust and lonely confinement, it saw time slip through its glassy gaze, secrets of the universe tucked neatly behind its tick-tock rhythm.
secrets of drawers, they breathe in whispers, holding memories of letters never sent, soft whispers of pages, folded corners, they guard your hidden stories like a silent guardian, yearning to speak but bound by fragile wood.
the cold metal chair speaks when no one sits, a shiver rushes through its frame whispering about the many conversations it overheard, the tangled thoughts of people coming and going, painted by vibrance of life spilling around its legs.
pillows hold dreams, dirty little secrets of the night when the world sleeps unaware, they whisper truths too soft to touch in daylight, secrets of shadows, foundations of whispers hidden beneath the seams.