Coming home to find an odd herd
or bright white dustbunnies roaming
the floral rug, the dog huddled under
the cedar end table, and the heart
of her pansy patterened sofa
exposed....to murderous thoughts.

Her face fell.

Sniffing, she held the wad of tissue to
her nose, listening to the whir of the
airconditioner in the office where
hell froze over, watching as the ink
dried on the next chapter of her life,
wondering if this is where
death parted.

Her face fell.

No longer connected, propped on a pillow,
she shudders, drawing her last three breaths,
finally releasing that mystic piece
of her truest self, leaving only a smudge
of soul dirt on that hospital room ceiling.

Her face fell.
Theirs crumbled.