Room With A View

A memory i'd like to forget.

My footfalls echo against the off white walls.  My nostrils intake the awaiting death and lingering regret.  I’m slow in my movements, all along repulsed by the image I have yet to see.  My hand vibrates against the door.  I stand on the threshold gazing into the eyes of the gathered.  They share the same apprehension as mine.  I was informed of what to expect, yet my heart seems not to have heard.  I see him there.  White veins shackle him to the wall.  I plead for his bandages to cover my eyes.  His eyes adjust.  Clarity.  My face a pop-up book of emotion.  It’s clear to him.  Shame clouds his pain.  Why wouldn’t you listen to me?  I choke on those words as they climb back into my throat.  No need for them to breath the air.  Instead I let out a rush of emotion.  He raises his hand to tell me it’s okay.  I am comforted.