The Stalker. The Mimic. The Shadow.

The Stalker. The Mimic. The Shadow.
by Dianne Marie Santos

You know in perfection,
the movements,
the actions,
of things in existence;
like an oracle
with eyes
to the future.
We are each other,
so close, your fingers run
through my hair as I comb,
and the foot
in my shoe is yours.
In light,
you seem invisible,
in hiding;
the sun numbing
your existence,
like the blankness
of your expression,
when you are with me.
I love watching you
camouflage with the night;
you blackness,
visibly unique,
your darkness,
that knew nothing
of sorrow.
Patiently---
you stick with me,
or is it indifference?
just plain duty?
Without rest,
without sleep,
you watch over me
between blankets and bed sheets.
The last ray of the sun shines,
still, you wait,
for my movements---
my actions,
in my eternal numbness,
you stay.