19th June 2017

At the end of the tunnel was a door.

The door was closed,

the tunnel was dark.

A finger of light slid under the door,

like fingers it was full of shadows.

Someone was walking there

behind the door.

I could hear their footsteps;

their breath was like the rattle of wind

scouring the bones of trees.

I could see the way the shadows passed

to and fro, impatiently.

I could hear their fingers scraping along the doorway

as though to find an exit

though it was I that was trapped,

here in the darkness,

aching to be beyond that door,

afraid to discover what was behind it.

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