chain of rooms

Her hunger woke her.
It burned against the stone cold comfort
of her unforgiving cell.
Padding softly down
dark monastery halls,
she drew close to
his door.
He was silent, a pensive stare
penetrating her as she entered
another prison.

Another day meant
old shadows
dripping off cold walls.
Carving herself
into dust she would sink,
suspended by ice cold stone.
His stare, making no noise,
overflowed her heart with its deafening dread
leaked into the world.

After an age, she died
and awoke, covered,
a gown made of keys.
Each footstep rang a bell
and each key sang a song
and in delight she drew near
his door.
He was silent, a pensive stare
penetrating her as she entered
another chance.