Crimson Peak

The bottom of your beige dress leaks bright crimson on the floor,

And your velvet shoes leave red footprints by the bedroom door.

The voices follow, they swing steadily like oak branches in the wind.

You lock your chambers and kill the lights, but still hear their hymns.

There are strangers by the window, cursing out your family name,

And the night will not be over until your sheets drip in shame.

The clock in the study counts down bodies buried in the backyard,

Their ghosts float over you, shooting daggers at your naïve heart.

The storm roars as snowflakes sneak through the holes in your roof.

All the candles start burning at once, leading you towards proof.

But you knew for a while, you just chose to breathe in love fumes,

And the night will not be over until you save the souls of the doomed.

-JW