Poetry

The Witness (#1259)

The apartment was motionless and dark,
The silence was swallowing and stark,
All embers of life dispersed and gone,
Sun barely breaking through curtains drawn,
Upon the kitchen table rest an unopened pizza box,
The front door ajar, unhindered by latch or locks,
In the kitchen, an open cabinet drawer,
A flickering TV glow from the bedroom door,
On the apartment floor, a sprawled feminine form,
Matted wet carpet, copper-scented and lukewarm,
Of muted screams, no one could hear her,
Covered in blood spatter, the only witness, a mirror.

Any Thoughts?

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