Shadows in Passage

Walls pressed close, wallpaper peeling

like dry skin, corners curling away.

Floorboards groan beneath each step—

a warning, or accusation?

Light flickers from a bulb too old,

casting shadows that pool and stretch

like waiting ghosts between doors.

Voices drift faint from other rooms,

tense as held breath, or unsaid things.

I move slow—each footfall loud

in the long tight choke of this hall.

The silence here is sharp enough

to cut, or to bind, or to hold.