Blackened corridor

Some nights she wakes to the cold sweats of dementia.

Petrified of present surroundings; where is she?

The sweat dribbles down her neck in the essence of solitude.

He stood in the corner shadowed by his own darkness as he watched her drown.

Her arms flailing as her body contracted feverishly.

He watched her fight and turned to leave.

Every night for a week he stood in that corner to watch his world struggle to breath.

Her eyes blinded by a love too weak to see.

There was no remorse in his eyes only a tint of gloss and then it went dry.

Every night for a week, he struggled to feel.

He ached to understand a concept too thick to bleed.

The shoe

The webs began to form, as the spider spun around its prey like flies to waste.
Her mind was a tarnished flower that wilted underneath the suns rays.
People could walk in, but no one could escape.
Trapped inside like hollow cocoons where nothing flourished–
No butterflies exist.
It was a game of cat and mouse as they all tried to escape.
The feeling of loneliness sunk in when the lights turned out and swallowed them in darkness’s cave.
Chaos erupted and her heart beat swiftly.
No one knew she was screaming.
Trapped inside as the voices arose to a mere whisper.
It was then that she no longer suffered.