I meet a skeleton hiding in the depth of my closet,
in nothing but my boots and a satin type corset,
still with her hair(well I’m assuming its a she)
and in her hand holding a special secret for me.

she assumes she knows more
than an average friend may
and to this I am startled,
but don’t give it away,
for what is a skeleton without
a name or a trace?
I mean, I beg your pardon,
get out of my face.

she hung there waiting for me to come by,
knowing that soon id be needing clothes to try,
and I swear she would hang there so happily,
excited at the prospect of alarming me.

and so I am frightened
by the grey of her bones,
by the scent of her flesh,
and the sound of her drones
yet of coarse i smile widely
if not slightly too trying,
at the hope of her secrets
confiding.

what she sais makes me angry but I know she is right,
there’s a dark place inside me that never sees light,
and she managed to find gapes in which to crawl through and sleep,
in-between all the sharp shadows of the feelings I keep,
hidden somewhere inside me that is so close to the grave
that I never look inside it, I’m never that brave.

until it reaches to a time my
secrets comes  to me,
in the form of a skeleton
(unfortunately)
to tell me i should look deep
inside of what’s wrong,
and fill it with
what i knew
All along.