What spectre has a hold.

What is it that pulls us from our sleep,
the words we dream or the images we seek?
What horror laid in wait as slumber barely came
do such dreams even have a name?
The broken tie of choices made,
A whisper that the debt is paid.
Gut wrenching connection severed in time,
Like the universe needed to say, ‘Sorry, they’re  mine. ‘
What darkness pulls me from the other world,
Pulling me from clouds so perfectly pearled,
and a sky of crystal love
as crushed diamonds fall from above.
What spectre claws at my skin as our fingers touch
As blood rushes to the beating drum as such.
As I am dragged feet kicking into the darkness of shadows
that dance around my sight, unsure who is friend and who is foe in these horrors that are night.
What lays in waiting, creeping slowly upon my bed, upon my skin,
Tell me dark creature of the night, why is it that you come for me,
and tell me dark creature of the night, will you ever release me?

Karen Hayward 2016©