Eye Contact

a - eye contact

She can feel them, yet she can’t see,
how close they are, she barely breathes.

Her skin bristles, with electric fear,
as it always does, when they are near.

She feels the hand, upon her shoulder,
her stomach lurches, bile gathers in her throat.

Her skin is crawling, as she moves her head,
to look into the eyes, of the walking dead.

A - website footer

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Wendy Pratt

Poet, Author, Editor, Facilitator

Inking Prose & Poetry

The Art of Prose and Poetry

Fevers of the Mind

Writing, Poetry, Short Stories, Reviews, Art Contests

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Where learning means more | Far a bheil ionnsachadh a’ ciallachadh barrachd

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