The light transitions suddenly, casting lengths of brass upon the creaky floorboards. I know where you stutter. Not at the closet, nor the alarm clock – it’s lost somewhere between the quantum dreams of tomorrow's laundry.
Dust bunnies confide secrets – “We rescue stray wishes that tumble under your couch; delicious! But fleeting!” What are you, who catch discarded lists with zealous munching and feasting under the shadows?
A piano sighs forlornly, its keys encrusted with moments long before they hardened into memory. Can the nails of the chair speak the idle gazes resting upon glassy pixels?
The old bottle whispers beyond its ceramic skin, memories frozen under whispered syllables lost amidst the whims of their revival in the dreams of those chill evenings.
Why say a name when breath whispers to walls plastered with silence? Each tapping foot its curtain call and invisible chorus. Cracked tiles understand the heaviness of heart. Moving chairs carry burdens that cathy themselves under oil-slick impressions of foothouses.
Remember you, kitten caught by the fragility of watercolor? Degas would blush at how taloned chatter burrows under pine-scented hearts. Watch how fabrics listen while merely squandering around upon the humid sticky-hope-i-can-produce-a-myth stations.