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haunted dream

Another quicky, free style poem.

Saturday, February 19, 2011 10:15:29 PM

it is calling your name, this thing of darkness
amidst the flowers, funeral finery and fillegree
this voice emerges from hollows, from corners
it whispers to you with the smell of rotted leaves
mildew on it's soft breath on your neck

can you hear her, whistling wind
through the trees outside but holding on
tight to your skirts - turning, turning, turning round you look for her
down haunted halls, in quiet rooms
through smudged, tearful eyes you look

"here i am" she says
you see nothing but deep black waters
unstirred by a hundred years of silence
"i'm waiting" she says
you can feel her here, like a cold hand on your ankle

stretch away, lips contorted into shrieks
but a throat, cut with invisible wire and unable to speak
you moan silently as she calls to you from below
"here i am" she says
"here i am"
"here i am"

Saturday, February 19, 2011 10:22:21 PM