and anxiously the flowers
in the wallpaper try to escape
suffocated by plaster
with their petals melded
to the peeling walls
watching compulsively
the black carpet matted
in dust and embedded footsteps
and the rippled windows
each cracked with dimness
fused to the wall with nails and board
so they won’t realize
the despairing chandelier inside
recalling absent voices and extinguished flames
still clenching its stubby candlesticks
wax frozen in another century
above them the exhausted ceiling
groans with age and finally
slumps to the floor
and drops the latent attic
trunks and dust and diaries
a prison of discarded ambitions
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