lost.

she slipped out of bed
and felt the cold on her ankles
and toes
as she made her way
across the room.
she saw little
in the dark of the room;
shadows against a background of black.
she moved quickly,
sure of her steps,
a way she had come before.
she padded softly through the door,
down the hall,
and into another silent room.
she stopped.
all shadows
on this side
of the house.
waiting.
eyes adjusting.
breathing.
she can hear her own breathing
and little else.
leaves move outside the window though
every time the wind passes
through them.
waiting.
she lifts her feet
lightly
as her knees grow tired
from standing so long
in one spot.
she can see a bit now,
her eyes adjusted to the dark.
and she knows.
this bed is empty,
and will be for so much longer.
she cannot see them,
but the walls are painted blue,
and she can feel them closing in
in the darkness.