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Shin
Poems
Jul 20
An Attic in Winter
Parchment frayed, edge crumbled to silky ash.
A single candle’s flicker caught dancing
to whispers from dust crackling their secrets.
The window sweats, powdered by evening snow.
Her droplets quench the thirst of the rotted floor.
A mouse scurries, elated for its flow.
Etched in the corner, a rope swings freely.
Held together by habit above all.
Beneath it rests nothing more than shade.
#attic
#alone
Written by
Shin
30/M/Chicago
(30/M/Chicago)
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Pradip Chattopadhyay
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