The door is closed,

unlocked but

cobwebs make it clear

this door is rarely entered.

 

Paint chipping,

black faded

stain dripping down

cracked glass.

Abandoned yet

familiar,

like deja vu I know

I've entered this door before.

Enticed,

I turn the key.

 

Wrapped in darkness

the echo of my stiletto guides me

one

step

at a time,

time

ticks

and the minutes fly

 

off the clock

and I'm trapped again

in the room where

buried memories lie.