The memories flash through my mind.
Orange. Green. Red.
Each heavy on my back as I retrace the steps we once walked, now without you.
Like the pumpkins we carved and the bread that we made.
Like the casserole you made for me in that candle lit, cloth covered room I once called home.
But it was never my place to call home,
Just a safe space I lost when you were gone.
Like the wine that we drank and the tears that I shed,
Though not red, came from a bleeding heart
Crimson like the blood that poured from your wounds not long before
God slowly closed every door
And now im lost in this space
I can feel its grip on my lungs as i try to run
But i slowly fade into the darkness
Orange, green, and red remain.
They bleed from the walls
It is their grip on my lungs that brings me to a still space
Though not quiet
The voices get louder as the colors get darker and deeper still