The Closet Opens

because there's something

screaming inside.

Layers of paper from

last year

just lays there.

A pile of dirty clothes

running away.

Boxes wrapped in

pretty pink circles.

A photo frame of

me and a poem,

dedicated to mom.

She opened it?

I cry out in disbelief.

I turn the other way

squealing to my mind.

Oh looky there,

this ones getting dusty.

I stare,

I droop,

and I walk away.