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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1984343-Harolds-Darkside
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Dark · #1984343
A stalker, shunned boyfriend? Maybe...
Written from the Dark Dreamscapes Poetry Contest's Prompt #2: "I'm nobody, who are you." Emily Dickinson

However, not entered into the contest as I all ready have a poem entered for the April round.




Harold's Darkside
I stood for an hour, shivering and watching;
She didn't know I was there.
She sat watching the tele and darning stockings
I savored the color and curl of her auburn hair.

She stood and stretched her sedentary muscles;
Turned and stuffed her things away.
I stepped back with a hustle;
As she stepped to look upon the bay.

I crouched in a bush completely entranced;
Her green eyes reflected the Moon veiled by a cloud.
She tugged close the drape, forgot the lock, as by chance;
I swallowed my heart, her action invited as if spoken out loud.

She drifted about turning out the lights before entering her bedroom.
I stood slowly, breathing shallowly, anticipation pounding;
Inhaling the scent of honeysuckle bloom.
A quarter hour I wait, my anxious heart abounding;
Before the window I slid open slow and soft;
Stepped inside, through the heavy drapes, heart beat resounding.

Eyes adjust to enshrouding darkness, I tip toe 'tward a loft.
There to rest by her bedroom door, under which a sliver of light leaked.

In shadow I stand quiet listening;
I swallow, imagination heightening, I feel myself grow
Into bedclothes she must be changing
I hear soft sounds of drawers open and close.

Soft sqeeks of bedsprings, then the light blinks out 'neath the door.
I wait panting, anticipation extreme, I bring out my knife,
The bed creaks as she settles in, and I rise more for the whore.
Smiling, my eyes closed, she will regret not being my wife.

I wait, counting by the door, my temples pounding;
Anticipation exhilarating, waiting for her soft sleeping snore.

Another hour, then I open her bedroom door.
The hinge squeals and she stirs.
I freeze my feet frozen to the floor.
She sits and stares into the dark, "Who..?"

"I'm nobody, who are you."

She reaches for the light, "Harold..?"

I take two long steps toward her bed,
And on go the lights.
"Harold! What on earth! Stop playing games and come to bed."

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1984343-Harolds-Darkside