Silverfish gnaw tunnels of past
through lavender shrouds
where your name pulsed
and my pulse stopped.
Frass falls like hail
in the attic of self‑respect,
touched by neglect.
dustpan heaps with smiles
and the zero bulb stutters
its dying thought.
scuttling me to where
the dungeon of pests opens.
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Author:
Awam (
Offline) - Published: February 21st, 2026 04:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
This poem tunnels deep through the paper pages of layers of emotions. It is soft and quiet unfolding the deterioration of aged neglect leaving only dust and fragments where once poignant print of love and care now yellowed lay in the dark of the past. It gives me shudders watching scurrying insects of time, feeling them crawl over the present's skin. A definite fave
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