The Attic

We all have an attic, the repository of unwanted things.

Dusty, old, the cobwebs lie in wait for visitors, not
knowing this is the place where dreams go to die.

This room holds a depressing inventory:
Broken promises.
Hopeless yearnings.
Faithless lovers.
False friends.

We venture in to leave our souls and the broken
pieces of our hearts. Our unfinished novels are here;
paintings found to be wanting. Friendships we
thought were forever, grow moldy in the dust.

As we get older the blood red door
becomes harder to close.

You will not find skeletons, but nightmares far more ghastly.
There is no horror movie so frightening;
no ingenue senseless enough to search for the key
to this room. There are secrets here that can
destroy in the cruel light of day.

We forget as we relax in our bright, sunlit rooms, smiling
at each other and the spotless days that come-

Bedecking your homes with flowers to control the
stench just two flights up; occasionally catching a
whiff of the carrion odor that lies within...

Oh, that faded red door?

It doesn't lead to anything worth seeing.

So stay with us here and please, please-

Leave that room alone.