'Twas a new moon night, murky and overcast.
I laid awake on the bedspread,
Oblivious to time.
'Twas perhaps just past the witching hour, perhaps.
The lights were out,
Giving an inky hue to all that surrounded me.
I heard a sound from the doorway, footsteps.
With each ticking of the timepiece, they got nearer.
With a single glim held firmly,
I moved towards the door.
I descried a shadow on the floor
And then I see the figure, that of a girl.
She was younger than I, wore a ivory dress with scarlet stripes.
I knew her at first sight, she was me,
Me from the foregone.
I saw something in her eyes, apart from the redness,
A desire, desperate one.
A desire to be wanted.
I stretched my arm, intending to feel her.
But she evanesced and all that surrounded me whirled.
I sat upright, drenched in perspiration.
I sighed for 'twas a nighmare. I was gingerly drowning into a slumber
When I heard it, footsteps, real that once.