The wind flickered the lantern,
The door clicked without a knock.
Tonight's guest is a name: Requiem
Just last year, he passed.

I wished to turn and run,
To escape my own home,
But, as in every dream,
I could not scream.

I took each wooden step,
Creak—by—creak, one at a time.
I peeled back curtain after curtain,
Anxious to see and to not see.

The man I once knew,
But had then ceased to be.
And if I did see him,
What would her looks be?

A drained, rotten, mottled cadaver,
Still, dragging behind him
Each step tattered
Burial clothing suited up?

How else could he be
After his long rest in the earth.
His abdomen bloated and ruptured,
Crawling with the insects it birthed?

And those same eyes,
How startling would his eyes be,
Gray, opaque, and cloudy,
Unhinged at one side.

Oh Requiem, how sorry
I feel—honestly,
And forever will I be,
If you'll only believe me.

You had your eyes on my beloved,
And both of hers were on you,
That filled me an agonizing envy,
Such that I wished you dead;
But never had I imagined it would be
At my own hand, allegedly...

#elseworld #visit #confession
© Tђєє ⓞrเginɑl🩸