Beneath The Windowsill

I hide beneath the windowsill,
Trembling, waiting.
My monster breathes into the cracks,
Hot breath melts the latches.
Eyes searching, nose searching,
Every fibre searching…
Cowering beneath rosewood,
Invisible am I,
Scarce dare to breathe…

I stooped beneath the windowsill,
Reaching, fumbling.
My monster lay upon my palm,
I laughed and tossed him in the fire.
Eyes burning, teeth burning,
Every fibre burning…
Leaning on rosewood,
Nonchalant am I,
Brazen and utterly terrified…

December ’04


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

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All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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