the hour late, I hesitate
to lift the shield of isolation
the walls lean in, as if to hear
they make believe, by breathing hard,
that they are sleeping,
but I am wise to them, I am...
I know the sound, I know of eyes...
these walls have souls that live within
the air is solid, the light is dim
beyond my window, summer stirs
a sleuth that leers... , absurd it seems,
but watching me, I feel the burn
he shuffles in, with shades of black
a muffled step, through restless leaves
I catch my breath, ......yet strange, ....at ease
the curtain pants, with pulsing veins
I brush my hair, step out of clothes...
wait one moment to compose...
slip on nightdress,
holding close my other self
the one who never dares to take a chance
I want to dance the seven veils,
for eyes that dwell beyond the glass
beyond my dream, ....they look at me
two eyes,they watch in black and white,
I feel the burning of the night
the suddenness of who I am...
who she is, ...I hardly know her
she has no shame
wanton, willing in the dark
she is sliding in the crisp black grass
I douse the light.........and step up close
to look again, through window's pane
no questions asked
the eyes aren't there.....
in black and white.......there by the gate...
but I don't care......
in isolation............the walls are falling
and have old souls
I know they stare
I'll dance for them
I know for certain
they are there
Inspired by John Heck's Contest: "Visceral!"