The Untold Closet

Shadows quiver in the corners, waiting... If only they could speak in tongues unclear, artifacts of a life... Why does the old coat smell like rain, memories of wandering streets where... The unspoken shoes, two left feet, no place to go but... Echoes of garments whispering against each other, stories half-told, as if someone... There's a space behind the door, cracking open with light, but no one... Dust settles on secrets, every year a layer more, collecting... A forgotten scarf lies tangled, a breeze that never... The closet knows when the door is... Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps the day after, someone might open... Placeholders of existence, waiting for a purpose, but do they ever...?