Friday, 26 February 2010

Photo hide and seek.

Image by Sepulture

“You have the digital,
I’ll take the manual.”
Because she’s better at it, you see.
The wooden walls creak
when you’re trying to be quiet.
Stocking slippers snag
on the rough floor boards.
She can hear the drag of my jeans,
the soul of my breath,
the beat of my blood.
Finger on the trigger,
light, tight and trembling.
Blurred headlights, sweeping shadows
across the ceiling, make you jump.
Her room is quiet-dark.
The bathroom is empty,
but as you turn, you catch your reflection.
Mess of hair and shock of eyes
in a blue-grey tint.
Caught you.
And in the mirror
I see her movement,
hidden behind cupboard doors.
The scent of her perfume
as she inches, slow,
the wooden slats shiver
and I wait, unnoticed,
for the chance to take.
Flick, flash, finish.
She took the manual and
I had the digital.
She thought she was better at it, you see.


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