He Came

The night was never a comfort,
And sleep never came easy,
if at all.

She never knew when he was coming;
not if, but when,
for he always came.
 

An evil shadow--he came,
materializing from some dark corner;
emerging
out of the very substance
of the night itself;
the red glow of his cigarette
a beacon,
an evil eye;
he came.

He was all the monsters
a child can imagine,
and some a child could never imagine;
so she stopped imagining . . .
and thinking . . . 
and feeling . . .
and went away somewhere
where she was safe
until he finished
and faded back into the night.

But, until the morning
chased away the shadows,
she could still feel his hands;
not his gentle, daytime hands,
but his rough and greedy
nighttime hands,
touching her in places
hands should never be;
touching her in ways
they never touched her
in the daylight.

And with each touch,
he took a piece of her
until she
d
i
s
a
p
p
e
a
r
e

 

(C)   Linda E. Newman 
Used with permission
Read more of Linda's poetry  Here 


 
 
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Midi "When Teardrops Fall"
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