Spoiling Secrets

A container sits still, in shadows concealed,

held tight by the fear of what time has revealed.

With edges so frayed, and a lid tightly closed,

the mystery within feels like something exposed.

Mold creeps like regrets, clinging to thought,

what once was a meal is now battles fought.

I linger before it, a decision must come,

to face what I’ve stored—where rot’s made its home.

The fridge hums softly, a whisper of dread,

each glance at that box leaves more questions unsaid.

In the stillness of choice, uncertainty grows,

what lies in that darkness, nobody knows.