Stalker
He won’t speak to me in daytime,
Yet at night
He stalks my sleeping form
-- Or such he thinks.
Turns back my duvet,
Divests me of my night-clothes.
Spreads my arms and legs;
His fingertips caress my skin,
Hot hands massage my breasts...
I lie silently 'asleep'
With eyes tight shut,
As he works his magic
On my body.
Though once or twice
I catch a glimpse
Through narrow-slitted eyes:
He's stripped.
A ragged pile of clothes
Sits patiently
Amid the gloomy murk.
Once more
He works upon my flesh,
This time
More earnest in his probing.
Soon, his mass compresses me,
Our slick bodies
Squeezing out the sweat
Between our skins.
His thrusts
Propel me with a shudder
To a climax.
He groans beside my ear;
I stare wide-eyed upon the ceiling.
How long can this continue?
He grunts and rolls away.
I shut my eyes
And he departs.
Breakfast in the hostel:
It's a communal affair,
But my stalker, he avoids
My furtive glances.
I sigh, and think:
Not long
Till night-time comes again.
Ring
It's dead.
They've cut the line,
Or there's a fault.
Yet why the tone remains
Is baffling.
That's why he doesn't ring:
He can't get through.
And though I wait
And wait
And...
Still
The phone is silent
As the last recorded nothing
Of the universe.
If only he would ring
Or just arrive --
Presumptuous isn't in it;
I want him now.
To lie in silent bliss,
His breath of sleep
Upon my face;
His weight exhausting me;
Pinned in his embrace
-- Is all I ask.
To feel him press
Inside me.
Why won't he ring?
A Perfect Match
Don't leave me, darling. Please.
It's been so good
Till now.
What made you go?
Did I say something to upset you?
Have you found another?
We're compatible,
Aren't we?
Not in every way, of course.
In fact, sometimes I hate your guts.
But as for that which made my life a pleasure,
We were a perfect match.
But what of love, you say?
Well, I don't know.
Of one thing I am sure:
However mismatched we may be,
In terms of temperament or psychology,
In one respect we fit together
Hand in glove --
An interlock so fine,
Our ecstatic interface
A perfect match.
Don't leave me.
Sometimes
I hate your guts.
But there's another part of you
I cannot do without.