He woke to crimson stains upon the floor,
His wife's lifeless body lying by the door.
The walls were painted with a silent scream,
His soul, snatched by a blood-soaked dream.
For days he wandered like a madman in pain,
Each breath a question he answered in vain.
He cried for mercy, begging for a chance,
For words unsaid in their unspoken romance.
At last he dropped, kneeling before her grave,
A heartbreak so strong, no prayer could save.
But then—a voice, so familiar, soft, and near,
He opened his eyes to the one he held dear.
With tears in his gaze, he vowed never to part,
Her arms wrapped around his trembling heart.
"I'm here," she whispered, "I won't go away,"
And in her warmth, the night dissolved to day.