A section of the room was filled with moonlight.
The window had remained cracked open
Since the woman of the house perished that one night.
With her husband following her fate a week later.
Was it a doomed fate or destiny?

The dust on the loveseat
Was a product of abandonment..
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter
The seasons changed every few months
For over ten years.

The unfixed silk sheets were in darkness
Covered in layers of dust, enough to make a duvet of.
The pictures on the abandoned nightstand,
Of people who passed
Remained in the darkness

Red handprints were imprinted on the floor
With a dried pile of blood near the bed
The duvet, soaked in more red
Hung off the the side of the bed
Indicating something unpleasant had happened

Was it a doomed fate or destiny,
That the husband died a week later?
A splatter decorated the flower painting
That the couple had painted together and hung in the bedroom.
The grief left a bullet wound through the flowers.

The night he had returned home,
Hoping to spend time with his wife and feel her warmth,
Changed when he entered the bedroom
Only to see her body spread out on the floor
Lifeless and cold.

The portraits of the past
Remained in the darkness,
On the abandoned nightstand
Of which had witnessed a brutal death,
Instead of what could have been a happy family

The stains glistened in the moonlight
And will stay there
Until disturbed by the living.