December 9, 2014 Dark, Poetry 0

by Christina Torretta

At the edge of the darkness I hear it


Is it your nectarous voice or just my fancy

I want you here, we both know that but I’m desolate with only my tears as companionship

and the susurration continues, growing more vehement by the second,

no longer thinking it’s your voice, I grow frightened

imagining all sorts of abominations and wishing they were you,

I can already feel your hands on me, caressing my skin,

your breath gliding over me, creating ripples of chills in its wake,

all I want is you, the amenity your presence brings,

the smirk on your lips and eyes as we kiss

but even the thought of your touch is not calming my heart,

normally my breath matches your touch, but now it’s racing as the voices get closer.

I ask quietly over and over again, is this all in my head, am I dreaming?

Slipping from the covers I touch my toes to the floor,

hoping not to make a sound, I stay like this for what feels like forever,

alone, my toe on the floor, half the covers still around me.

I hear nothing now, though I extend my ears to go beyond their ability

nothing stirs.

Emboldened I move to touch my other foot to the ground, pausing after every movement,

until finally I am standing next to my bed, still nothing moves.

I tip toe wishing I had the slyness of a hunter but on the spongy carpet no sound is made

as I make my way to the door and summon the courage to flick the switch.

I am ready now to face whatever lies under the sound, whatever may be in the room with me,

watching, waiting.

My finger touches the light switch and suddenly I am emboldened by the light.

I open the door and tread into the corridor, peeking out, aching to listen to anything that may move.

Nothing does.

Nothing is out of the ordinary.

No noise is heard.

I sigh at my overly vivid imagination and begin to turn when I feel a pressure on my chest

looking down I watch as my shirt is yanked from behind, a button in between my breasts bursts off

and I watch its decent, twirling as it sails to the floor, but I don’t see it hit

I am being drug into my room, I can neither feel nor see the assailant, just the pulling,

upwards and backwards

Nor can I feel the floor, I have been lifted off of

I scream as loudly as I can

my throat is already raw with the strain

but nobody is coming to my aid,

my last thought is of you, your eyes so beautiful in the sun,

your hands, strong and beautiful

and then there is nothing but darkness.

About Christina Torretta

Bohemian with a dark side. Lover of horror and serenity!

Currently studying psychology and plan to get my PhD to become a Neuropsychologist. Clinical and Cognitive studies are my goal.

Until then I am reading horror of all kinds (ZOMBIES!!) and the odd romance, cause why not?!

Comments are closed.