She smiles,
a slow, careful smile
that curdles on top like bad milk,
a skin freezing in increments over troubled
waters. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says
to the accompaniment of the skeletons doing a jig in her coat closet.
-
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Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
Oh gosh, it’s bad enough having skeletons in the closet but having ones that jig makes me wonder if it is safe to have a closet at all! As for that curdling smile….!!!
Kinda creepy, I know… But all experiences, even creepy ones, are open season to a poet! 🙂
I think it’s time for spring cleaning … out with the dingy, stinky stuff in the closet 🙂
Open and honest is best, yes? 🙂
Wow! You are a mind-reader, Melody… I was just thinking about how different life could have been for a family that chose to deny there was alcoholism in their family, and they watched their husband/dad drink himself to death. So sad.
Blessings ~ Wendy
There’s an awful lot of denial rattling around… You’re right – that is very sad.
Only you could bring us a lesson like this! Thank you, Melody!
🙂 Thanks Debbie. This is a hard one for me – denial can be so dangerous! Shedding light in those dark hidden places is so difficult – and so necessary for healing.
You’re definitely looking through my windows–that dang closet of skeletons–arrgghh.
Tell me about it. ‘Dem bones are rattling something fierce. Hang in there!
I wonder if my manager would notice, if I nailed and duct-taped my closet shut???