the3rdpersonstory

2

Clouds drawn apart the curtains fall.
Caught in the act, shadows drip from his hands.
Cackles of the Night echo over 
Dawn’s bright shoulder as she opens the door.

Framed, his body left painted on the sheets, 
Felled, Night's black kiss still damp on his cheek.
Floating in undulations of slow, white
Silence.