Why I don’t clean my closet

Dark nights.
Music.
Slithering bodies.
Impossible shoes.
Impossible youth.
Touch.
Abandonment.
All live again with a single glance.

And you ask me why I don’t clean my closet?

About this poem

Not all poetry has to be deep. Sometimes you just have to have fun with it.

The picture was taken at an antique fair.

Tom