Corridors of the Mind

With thudding, laden steps, she heaved each door shut and bolted them; nothing left to flash before her eyes.

He relaxed against the doorframe, sighing into its sunlit depths; afraid to muddy it with his calloused hands.

She flung them all open, sunsets and sunrises cascading from each doorway; her laughter an immortal chime.

Slamming it shut, he fell to his knees, forehead pressed against the worn wood; some doors should remain closed.

His studious pacing counted the polished doors, opened and closed on command; never any dust to linger.

Tiptoe steps led her to starlit skies, ignoring doors creaking open at the corner of her eyes; don't look, don't remember.

He strolled, chuckling and patting each doorframe like an old friend on the back; a life lived he couldn't regret.

Prying the door open, hands bloodied and scarred, she stared into the void; embracing the pain that made her whole.

Flames licked at her heels, doors flaming and falling to ash revealing steel bones; no danger of rose colored glasses.