Inside my mirrored doors

my dreams hide.

My aims for a better body subside.

Inside my two door wardrobe

lies my wishes of running into you,

in a flowery flowing top

matching cute flats and form fitting jeans.

Inside the metal and glass enclosures of a cupboard my clothing and shoes hold onto my secrets,

ones I plan to share with you.

This clandestine knows you’re gone

like donation bags I fill

each year with things I’ll never wear,

like the smile I would’ve had seeing you.