I hear her heart haunting these halls.
Roaming throughout, she echoes moans of mediocrity.
Portraits painted over, but I still seem to see her smile seep through.
Wails like whispers in my ears;

“I don’t think this is working, I’m seeing someone else.”

Daggers digging down to drive out these demons.
A rush of red comes to the surface; drowns out the quiet.
Scar these halls with scarlet.
Blare out her broken beat.