When you trust someone,
do you eventually open the door to your closet?
Do you ask the skeletons to come out
and have tea?
Or is it best to take one bone out at a time
and give little hints of the issues that plague you?
I like that closets have keys.
I lock away the things that scare me.
At times, the skeletons knock; politely at first.
Please, may we come out?
I ignore them and soon the knocking
door knobs are rattling,
hinges are squeaking –
until the skeletons aren’t in the closet
like they should be but are now in plain view.
When that person you trust most finally meets your skeletons,
what will you do?
***This poetry was inspired by Sheldon Kleeman’s mesmerizing poem, Become: