Goddamnit Poe, Again?
I wake up in a gothic tale.
Instead of my alarm there's a raven cawing.
I think he had something to say,
But it's too early in the morning.
Every floorboard creaks
As I go about my coffee-making,
The kettle makes ominous gurgles,
For a second my hands start shaking.
Then I remember this is simply gothic,
Strange noises have no real power.
But I keep my wits about me,
While I take my morning shower.
Phantom shadows flutter
At the edge of every mirror,
And I wonder at the thought
That my patience could wear thinner,
When I hear something tapping,
Gently rapping at the window.
Poe has a lot to answer for,
I don't want to live his tropes.
I sigh, opening the curtains
To see nothing but the mist,
And I check sinister noises
Off my gothic tale checklist.
I step bravely out the door
Into fog and almost-rain.
I hear footsteps just behind me,
I'm being stalked again.
And I know what should happen next,
That I should gasp or swoon or run.
Being a heroine of this story?
It really won't be fun.
I should clutch a candelabra.
My bosom should be heaving.
I should listen to the whispers,
Should forget all thoughts of leaving.
The shadows in the mist
Speak of things best left to rest,
And I know it's just a tale
But my heart pounds in my chest.
That monster would have chased me,
Would take me in a rage,
But I remember what to do now.
I can simply turn the page,
Take control of this story,
Put these monsters back to bed,
Wake up again in sunshine.
I'm so sorry Poe.
The End.
Todays #Inktober poem. Inspired by the morning mist and vivid nightmares. If you like it, please share!
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