He Never Stops Watching Me
He never stops
watching me
his stare bends
through walls
it clings
to the floorboards
it seeps
into my veins
I close my eyes
he is there
behind the lids
behind the dark
shaping dreams
into prisons
a shadow
that knows my pulse
a voice
that never speaks
his gaze drips
down my spine
pools in my bones
when I move
he moves
when I hide
he finds
patience endless
hunger patient
he waits
at the edge of thought
he sits
in the doorway of breath
I have prayed
for blindness
for deafness
for silence
but his sight
is stitched in me
my skin
carries his mark
mirrors return
not my face
but unblinking eyes
watching
watching
never ending
never stopping
now they call it
a top story
my fear
in headlines
my silence
in print
but their ink
is too thin
it cannot
hold his gaze
the page folds
the world turns
but he remains
watching me
never ending
never stopping
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
One must find inspiration somewhere. Good job.
the funny thing about this awesome poem is that I once lived in a haunted house and felt exactly like this. makes me wonder if you've found a way to crawl into my brain and see what makes me tick. oh heaven forbid it; you'd go batty, sure.