The Kingdom of Forgotten Things
In the bottom of a drawer,
where rusted nails and screws gather dust,
never used to mend the house
we swore we’d build together,
my dreams lie waiting.
In the back,
with the dried-up ketchup packets
we thought would stretch the hard days,
but never opened—
you’ll find remnants of hope
wrapped in crinkled edges.
Tossed in an overfilled closet,
crushed beneath the weight
of your unpacked clothes—
the pieces I kept
after you left—
they’re hidden there too.
And in the basement,
where clutter grows like ivy,
where portraits we barely recall
prop up the cobwebs—
those fragile threads of time—
don’t let them fall.
I think I left part of me
down there as well.
Scattered like puzzle pieces
from a hurried Christmas morning,
left unfinished as we rushed
to places we never wanted to go.
Or maybe they’re like the tire tracks
carved into the mud from journeys
that never mattered,
etched into the earth
and fading into memory.
This is the Kingdom of Forgotten Things.
Copyright © Ashley Gilbert | Year Posted 2025
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