Creature of the Night

Blood red, my
Fingers drip

With wanting
What runs away—
So far.

I chase you like a
Like an owl.
 
Quiet as the night
I swoop down

Hoping to catch you
Once more,
Under the moonlight.

We dance our—
Last dance.

Because tonight
You are caught—
In me.

And no matter how hard you fight,
Claw or beg—
You are just a mouse.
And you cannot scream.

Blood red, my
Fingers drip
Not with my blood,
But yours,
 my love.

By Audrey Schmidt

Audrey hates writing so much, in fact it's become the only thing she seems to be able to express herself through. All though other communication would be great so would a lot of things. Audrey copes with grief of losing her mom to suicide in poems her mother will never get to read. Audrey is trying to put herself out there and actually try something for once. She hopes for someone, even one person, to enjoy her work.

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