Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

The Haunting

He haunts my bed each night
When I lie in a state of sleep.
He’s not there really
But I see him though;
His silhouette I see.
His breathing body in the dark
Besides a body that belongs to me.
He’s left his mark in my body and on my bed,
In the pillows, duvet and sheets.

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s