|Art via pinterest.|
A wolf, she told me long ago. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. I knew she was right, yet in blindness, I smashed the mirrors lining my haven so I couldn't see. So that with time I could forget those memories, and simmer in the heat from what I felt within.
He haunts me now. In my dreams; in the newly erected mirrors I've set within my marble palace. Vapors from his past still linger, the dark fumes which escaped his lips, pressing slowly into me; like a drug. Slowing my heartbeat, and sickening my mind.
He's here, all around me. I feel it in the walls, I see it in the imprints left between the roses silently dripping from the balustrade like ruby blood.
My haven is not a home; it is a tomb.
His tomb; and I the guardian.