I have a soft heart but no pulse, and I wear a tailored suit that I must be stripped of before I am consumed. I am often born in a dozen, yet I am always a single serving. Some people say, cake is cake even if it's me.

You can pull me or push me Or slam me or stuff me I hold secrets or clothes Or whatever, who knows? In the kitchen In the bedroom or bath Or In your classroom of math

I stand tall, but have no legs. I have a mouth, but never eat. I guide smoke to the sky, what am I?

I can be a great work Or a child's view of cheese. A gentle starry night, Or clocks melting on trees. I'm hung for all to see, Bringing some to their knees.

I’m keeping my eye on you! ‘Glances at wrist’