a pocket full of bones...

I have this closet, and I have not opened it for a long time.

Few know of its existence, even fewer have seen it.

I don't remember what it holds, but maybe it is because I choose not to.

Or, maybe, I dare not to.

The key that opens the locked drawers have long been lost..or maybe it was misplaced on purpose.

The drawers hold nothing much, but, oh, how much import they do hold.

A shred of this and a piece of that. A bottle of this and a sliver of that.

A shard of a dream and a rag full of blood.

I will weigh it down and bury it at sea, locking it anew and throw away the key.

But I know that in doing so, I will never find redemption.