Flicker and Fade

There’s something in the walls that only I can hear.

There’s something in the walls that only I can hear.
A whisper, a shiver, a pulse of fear.
You say it’s nothing, hush my doubt,
But shadows flicker, twist about.

The lamp’s thin flame is guttering low,
Your voice is sweet, but your eyes don’t glow.
Curtains breathe when the night stands still,
Wallpaper writhes with a fevered will.

The mirror’s grin is crooked, wrong,
It lags behind, it drags too long.
You press my brow, your hand is ice,
You speak in riddles, soft and nice.

The lights blink out in jagged code,
The floorboards moan an ancient ode.
My comb, my book, my keys are gone…
You say I’m tired, I must move on.

But there’s something in the walls that only I can hear,
A scratching, a sobbing, so terribly near.
Nails to plaster, I start to dig,
Splinters and dust, my heart beats big.

Your honeyed words, your glassy gaze,
The candle’s twitch, the smoky haze.
I taste the copper, thick and bright,
The clock’s heart stutters through the night.

Behind the lath, a secret kept,
A hollow space where sorrow wept.
My trembling hands, my frantic breath.
I find her waiting, dressed for death.

A white veil drapes her brittle bones,
A ring of dust, a nest of stones.
Her empty sockets locked on mine.
A warning lost in webs and time.

You find me digging, eyes gone wide,
Your mask of calm begins to slide.
I beckon softly, “Come and see.” 
I knew there was something here meant just for me.

You step inside, the shadows close,
The wall behind, the secret grows.
I leave you there, entombed in dread,
Where whispers haunt the newly dead.

A black veil falls across my face,
I drift through halls of silent grace.
Your funeral waits, the room is still.
The gaslight flickers, bends my will.

There’s something in the walls, I know,
A voice that hums so soft and low.
In gaslit hush between your lies, I wonder.

Is it the room that dies,
Or is it me who now survives?