“The Antique Store”

The room was
small, dimly lit.
It stank of burning,
yellow, lemon meringue
candles of sickening sweetness.
The antique store
felt like it was full
of ancient memories,
locked behind unopenable doors.
I reached out
and touched the silken wood
of a door in front of me.
It's grainy frame held
no pulse,
with which to tell me of its past.
It hid its oaken secrets
behind the dust in its corners,
never letting anyone into itself.
Since it did not give me,
anything to reassure myself of this
memory-locked place,
I made up a story for it.
I imagined all the things
that it could have seen since it
was built by human hands.
Balls, and murders, and secret loves
may have twinkled in and out below its
watchful gaze.
With this in my thoughts,
I left the store,
breathing in my last breath
of burning, yellow, lemon meringue
candles of sickening sweetness.