She kept about the wall that was opposition to my backside; Where the thick of wood and plaster gave a
the bind of her spine to mine, the mimicking of her I could feel.
With the left of her face holding ground to its place with sturdy glaring, as the right of mine just the same towards the opening of the doorway. It seemed I could feel the fleshly deadness of her cheek pressed to mine where the wall stands between, instead.
I gasp, to each inching she takes stepping forward to view myself on the other side; Holding the breath and I press the tips of fingers deeper into the skin - these are not my hands. The elongation to them abnormally structured to the flat line pulse that seeps through them;
I feel the grip of asphyxiation, though I breathe and more again;
The darkness that treads through the windows, its softness and silk.
The silence is heavy - the atmosphere so thick.
Her lungs are heard clenching to the rasping of monstrosity; Ribs to crack with movement, the fear it installs with its disgustful expansion.
I know her; that something despairing.
The carve of her face, to the humanly of mine. Putrifying in its beauty as the hair in length, long,
drenches to spilt sewerage - Listening to the death she brings for me.
We wait, still, for the other to step the threshold.
I become a bold and press myself from the wall -
the quickened of daze in the sight, no one crept here at all.