Secret drawer

My secret dresser drawer has the scent of sea and dew. There is a silver box that keeps inside some traces of herbs and a powdered flower. There is the memory of a furry friend gone, wrapped in loving joy and stained with the pain of a bitter loss.

I keep there some words forbidden hidden under the echoes of minor chords. There is the kiss of a boy, the touch of a man, a seashell that yearns for a pearl, the proposal of a friend, a ticket that witnessed a perfect day, and the picture of a boy who came my way in a virtual highway.

I have a secret song in a music box. Prayers for rain like beads on a string. A broken mirror where I refuse to look at myself for the fear of looking under my skin. And some dreams long forgotten curl up in the corners unforgiving, now (un)demanding, ever uncertain.

Nevertheless, sometimes I open my secret dresser drawer and, without looking inside, I just pull out a new dress. A fantasy dress.
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