Few know it exists. But if you would sink to your knees amongst the clutter and reach back into the depths you’d find the trove, the symbolic skeletons I’ve hung there.

The delicate white dress I wore on our first date. I fell in love for the first time in that dress. I never wore it again. No matter how many times it was washed it is forever wrinkled and limp.

The heavy brown hoodie from a midnight relationship that didn’t see dawn. That smoke-laden zip-up became a blanket on many nights, keeping the chill of loneliness at bay, offering more solace than his arms ever could.

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