Tracking
The night is still
Forceful in its silence
Withholding of anything
Generous
Anything soft
With promise
Shadows poke like branches
Into wanton flesh
Needing to be touched
But by degree
And only by one
Speed is of the essence
The chase begins within
There are no mileposts
No guiding stars
No shortcuts not laden with traps
And the only sound you hear
Are faint and
faltering footsteps
Tracking
In the dark
August 21, 2009 at 7:44 am
One of my faves, girl. The feeling of being hunted…and inevitably being caught by doubt. Hurts a little to read this because I relate to it so much.