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Poem

A stranger calls at midnight,
he doesn’t say a word.
I hear him smirk,
clueless, I am curious.

A stranger calls at midnight,
he doesn’t speak a thing.
I hear him breathe,
intruded, I am angry.

A stranger calls at midnight,
he doesn’t ask anything.
I hear him laugh,
intimidated, I am scared.

When a stranger calls
night after night at midnight
my anger turns into curiosity
that doesn’t last long
for it’s gripped with fear
of a danger unknown and unseen
hiding behind the clicking smirk,
growing in the heavy breath
and brewing in the mysterious laughter.

A danger lurking unknown and unseen
is more fear-some than the one staring in the eye.

Every night I am awake
when a stranger calls at midnight.
I am mad and scared,
and want to throw the telephone
at the stranger’s face that would bleed
and the blood would smear his smirk,
choke his breath and
transform his laughter into a groan. 
I would then sleep safe and in peace.

I couldn’t deface a stranger
invisible as my imagination,
but as real as the clock on the desk
ticking time and creating a bond of sort
between me and the mute stranger 
who calls at midnight.

It is five minutes to midnight. 
I wait for the call from the stranger
and wonder what would I hear ….
the sound of smirk, breath or laughter
I can’t predict.
The clock strikes midnight,
but no call comes.
I wait sleepless the mysterious night,
but no call comes.

The invisible stranger now knows  
perhaps he has become a part of me
and I can’t scare me anymore
not even in lonely nights of introspection. 
The fear disappears
as the stranger dissolves within.

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