It was a chill

It was a chill

Not the wind

Invading the house

As a cold draft

From an open window

It is too wet outside

For aeration

But a shivering

Hair standing

Skin prickling

Goose bumping

Nerve shredding

Anomaly

In an empty house

Dirty light filtered in

Through shuttered windows

Nothing but shadows

For company

When the familiar

Comfort of soft furnishings

Plumped cushions

And photographs

Designed for life

Is a compendium

Of disquiet

Ill met images

Become a body merged

Into collective

Synaesthesia

The chatter of a

Flapping letterbox

The rattle of rainfall

On a skylight

The impression of

A nightmare

In Hell Gate

Ill met

On a storyboard

Pressed between

Cobweb memories

Dusty book covers

And an empty house

In the darkest of days

When the sky falls

Below the horizon

The ocean empties

Into the blue

Leaving a hole

Where the world used to be

Will I see you again

Or was my fate sealed

When the full depth

Of my own dark pool

Was revealed

To be a shallow

Drowning

In a teardrop

Lagoon.