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Ashley Gilbert Poem
I want someone to snuggle under a blanket with,
to watch TV,
or for fingers to run softly through my hair
while I read, my head in their lap.
I want someone to kiss me goodnight.
And good morning.
Go to work. Pay the bills.
Buy me a gift—just because.
But phones ring, and doors knock,
and emails chime.
Kids scream, and I scream,
Ice cream,
Trucks rumble down the street.
In our marriage, our family, our life,
the closer the walls,
the closer the chaos.
Closed minds, closed doors.
No trips to Bermuda.
No money.
No second honeymoon.
No plan for college, retirement,
or anything in between.
No savings. Just spendings.
Lending but no tithing.
Smaller spaces,
disordered chaos.
Smaller spaces in my head.
Entropy overtakes me.
Copyright © Ashley Gilbert | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Ashley Gilbert Poem
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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