Night had crawled in and murdered meager light,
Through purple panes of milky glass, and placed
A chill on me, a nameless creeping blight,
And staring through the dark I saw a face.
Peeping between flowers long dead and brown,
Scratching, mewling, sighs; longing to embrace.
Whispering low against the walls, not a sound,
But dead breath fogs and marks the frigid glass,
And yellow, lidless, searching eyes roll round.
Praying, pleading, for it from me to pass
Back into the pale, back into its hell,
But cold hands closed on me and all hope passed,
It's bloody secrets it would tell.