poems

She still watched you.

She still watched you.

01/06/2017

You know, she’s there, sometimes, watching you like you’re the last thing she’ll taste.

You hear her creaking the floor where she treads softly or in the incline of the sofa as she sits.

Sometimes it’s just the cold breeze or brief sensation of cobwebs on your face.

Other times it’s where you can’t breath or sleep for seeing her image.

Ironic really, considering she’s harmless in the daytime,

Her power manifests from the darkness.

Which is ultimately the only time she could possibly possess you.

Sweet dreams.

 

© G.P Williamson 2017

 

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