Stalk
What I would give to stand by you
Instead of lurking in your shadows.
What I would give to step in your room
Instead of standing out in the rain.
What I would give to sit by your bed
As you lie down sleeping.
What I would give to touch you
To stroke your pretty hair and skin.
What I would give to caress your neck
Tighten my fingers until you scream.
---
I am with you. Always.
When you were born, fresh from the cool darkness of your mother's womb, I was the first thing you saw. I was what made you howl in terror before the doctor's hand even came close to you. And when you were asleep in an incubator, I stood by you, watching over you silently, unseen.
When you woke, you saw me again and screamed, waking all the other babies. Chaos. The nurses rushed in and as one of them picked you up and cradled you, you saw retreat into the shadows.
You grew older, fearing me. When I came too close, you would begin crying again, kicking and screaming and yelling. And when your mother comforted you, even when you quieted down, your eyes never left me.
I smiled at that.
You were always a pretty child, with eyes the colour of a raging sea and dark, dark hair. And at night, as you lay sleeping, I would stand next to you, running my fingers through your hair, stroking your silky soft skin.
As you grew up, you got smarter. You realised my limitations, and stayed out of the house, in the bright sun, playing with your friends.
But of course, what you didn't know was that I could change my form.
You thought you were safe in the light. In school, you were happy. I couldn't stand in the brightly-lit hallways and classrooms, not in my true form anyway.
I was there. The white mouse with black eyes you took care of in primary school. The quiet dark-haired boy you sat next to in sclass. The janitor who mopped the canteen floor as you ate. And many, many more. I am always with you.
You slept with the lights on at first, until your parents bought you a lamp. I pretended to vanish; lurking in the corners of your room. Sometimes, you thought you saw me move, but decided it was your imagination; going back to sleep as I stood behind you.
And when you fell asleep, I would slide over next to you, caressing your face, your limbs, watching your chest rise and fall as you breathed. Always watching you.
You got your first boyfriend. Unfortunately, you found out he was two-timing you for a boy you had never seen before; a boy with silky black hair and eyes the colour of polished ebony.
And then someone else came into your life.
He was a new boy in your school. Quiet, always keeping to himself.
Something about him intrigued you; he seemed strangely familiar.
You became infatuated with him and eventually managed to pluck up the courage to ask him out. That was the first time you saw him smile.
One date became two, then three, four five. You liked him a lot. The nights weren't so scary now; you were happy. Very very happy. And now, your parents are out of town for the weekend, and you invite him over for the night.
Something about him is familiar though. Like something from a childhood dream.
I lean over and kiss you.
"I love you," I say.
You smile.
"Me too."
I stroke the skin I have caressed for so many years, but never get tired of. "I've loved you for so long," I say.
A flicker across your face. "Who are you?"
It's my turn to smile as you brush my knuckles over your cheeks.
"Your guardian angel."
I show you my true form.
You scream.
---
Tiky was saying that it sounds like some creepypasta story of the net. I read it and yeah, it does.
Damn.
I can't write anything original.
Both poem and story are mine.
