I Know Not His Name So I call Him Adonis

Everyday he sees me and I see him by his shack.

He’s always standing, staring, as if waiting just for me.

I’m intreagued to say the least; his face; heaven to glimpse.

His eyes sparkle in the sun; dark brown pools of chocolate.

His hair with natural curls, with flecks of gray on black.

He has the look of a film star; perfect teeth and perfect smile.

I am beguiled simply by his stature, so tall and lean, and strong.

His hands I envisage linked with mine,

As he stares into my soul and I crumble from inside.

Who is this celestial being? Who invades my thoughts each day?

I am living in a dream of him, he is living in my corpus callosum,

My brain, in every part, in every nerve ending.

I mean he’s just a man, what’s wrong with me? Shake him off instantly.

Must I say something, do something, or not as the case so often may be?

Okay lady, you’re at work, talk to the girls, be enthused and gush.

But my best girl is’nt in today, nor was she yesterday or the day before.

She lives a few doors down from me; I’ll go check on her after work.

In the mean time I’ll send her a text, wishing her a rapid recovery,

But I guess she must be really sick, too sick to hit reply,

So I’ll just call round tonight; keep her posted on my fixation,

My complex preoccupation with this devine being called Adonis?

The work day ends as it usually does; my plan? No plan, It’s all by ear,

Check phone, no messages, no reply from my sick friend, my sick friend!

It’s 6pm and no reply, no reply, still no reply? Why? Three days not a peep,

I am really perturbed, feeling guilt of a kind, that I passed by this stranger,

This vision sublime, with no thought for my friend; not one, not at all.

He was my elixir, I was high; he injected my soul through piercing eyes,

This man, this Adonis, has stupefied me, so I run to my friends house.

But my mind has now gone to that dark place,

That egregious corner where I sometimes live.

Where I keep secrets and lies of another lifetime.

Adonis, he pulls up beside me in his Chevrolet; opens the door,

Asks me if I’m OK; he says I look sick, and I feel it; bile burns my throat,

I fall; I’m out; my thoughts, dreams and nightmares run vigorously.

Weaving in and out of consciousness I see a small figure; in my mind?

I know I’m in his Chevy, conscious now but strange; am I seeing things?

It feels as though my hands and my feet are tied with rope.

Why did I fall? I still taste bile in my mouth; underneath duct tape?

The smothering sensation as he opened the door. What was it?

Why am I here? Why was I running? To see my sick friend? My sick friend!

The small figure I saw before, now clear as she turned her head,

My sick friend sits in the passenger seat; hands adorned with leather, red!

Chloroform fills the airspace as my sick friend soaks the cloth.

I look up to the window, I see droplets of rain sliding down.

She pushed that cloth hard into my face and I had no choice but to inhale,

Burning my nose and my throat in the process. That explained a lot.

Again I fade; she made sure this time; I would not be awakened.

They’re lovers. I did not know. How I gushed about him. She despises me!

Or, this was their plan all along and I fell for it; into murderous clutches.

My only error? Being human. My fate? A shallow grave!