A Living Death

The sound of the handle being pushed down
The door opens into a stuffy and stale room
Trying to accustom eyes to the darkness ahead
Flicking on the light switch with anticipation and dread
Windows and curtains closed from that day
Dirt and dust everywhere;on the floor plates with food scraps
lay.

At the far side of the room situates the large double bed
Two vacant pillows at the board, but no one's head
Just a small mound in the middle; totally undercover
Time to remove the quilt and hopefully not discover
She is dead or worse: dead for days
Reassured as she squints her eyes from the light rays.

"I'm not dead, then" - not really a question
But what could have caused this state of depression?
"I believed he loved me, but it was just a great big lie!
He chose a world I was not in - and I can't think why!
Why did he leave me alone - alone with you?
Do you think he knows he killed me too?"