Green Black Crawl

I cracked open the basement door

and the smell hit like old lungs—

musty breath from walls eating themselves.

The wallpaper peeled like dead skin,

folds of it slick with green-black mildew,

stained patches creeping under the cracked window.

Laundry left folded on a dusty chair

looked half-melted into damp air,

and my fingers trembled when they touched the plaster—

soft, like old bread gone wrong.

The house sighed—a slow rot,

a secret too wet to hide,

and I stood there swallowing

that smell like it was the last thing left.