Internal shackles

Snow and candlelight

Darkness drips down the walls
like snow over the warmth
of candlelight.
In hiding I watch it
through a sepia lens.
Everything is the same
while everything else is different.
Voices and sounds curiously muffle
beside the mundane shadows
of familiarity.
I pierce the cornered lamp
with a glance
and my surroundings
abruptly shift
to a sour gray.
My jaw fatigues
so with a tense breath
I relax my verbal grasp
on these stifled words
and close my eyes.

Rewritten story.