Maybe one day
I’ll walk back
Through that creaking door
The hinges will rust
And the paint will peel
Up ceiling to floor
From the acid
Fuming out of my veins
I'll walk the
Empty echoing halls
As your world
Crumbles to dust
Blowing in the biting wind
With every surface
My dead eyes touched
Disintegrated in my wake
A gesture you are
Sure to appreciate
A belated gift from me to you
My presence the present
You tried to squander
To yourself
My mind and body
The toy you tried to break
Now this momentary
Pop-in will have
To suffice as the
Initiation for your
Contemplative
Barren
Afterlife
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 8 days ago
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