The Bed’s Underbelly

I reach beneath, fingers meet dust, a sticky film,

a tangle of hair ties, crushed cans, and forgotten bills.

The floorboards sigh, crooked and tired,

casting long shadows like secrets unspoken.

Old receipts folded into dust bunnies

huddle like lost ghosts beneath the mattress.

It’s a small kingdom of things that slipped,

fell through cracks, or vanished while I wasn’t looking.

A quiet graveyard of the accidental and abandoned,

where forgotten lives rest just out of sight,

breathing stale air, waiting to be found.