The soft patter of rain,
tinkling sound as it flows down the drain.
Wind whistling softly as I try to sleep
but there is someone down by my feet.
A figure standing there,
barely visible through the moonlight glare
but I can sense the cold in the air,
electricity makes my hair stand on end.
Sweat drips down my face,
duvet held firmly in place.
She doesn't seem to move,
just a statue looming in my view,
in the corner of my room.
Near my feet which twitch in fear,
it's the icy eyes and their vicious leer.
The way her lips are missing
and the hole in her head
where her brain should be sitting.
I slowly reach for the switch
to the night light that beside my bed sits.
I flick the button.
Nothing.
A fuse must have blown,
or has the apparition turned the power off
to my home, I'm frozen and alone.
Instinctively I grab for my phone.
Who can I call about a ghost on the roam?
Input my pass code pin,
slide down the settings,
turn the torch full glare
and point it in the direction of fear.
What do I see?
A pile of clothes sitting there.
But was it just the clothes I saw?
Or was there something more.
I could swear I saw her face,
her wretched features
etched into my headspace.
The smell of electricity still lingers,
the thought of those creaking bony fingers
and on the floor damp footprints
where her feet should have been.
Thanks for reading
Peace, Love and Poetry.
Please check out my books at Amazon and Waterstones
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Kyle
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