Poetry

That Wolf

There is a wolf that sleeps outside my window.
Every night, mostly she is quiet as can be.
If I peek, the whites of her eyes are glaring.
It’s obscene, the constant staring at me.
I see her teeth are sharp, when she’s gnarling.
She exposes my fear, it is real and biting.
That wolf paws at the window until I’m awake.
I feel and hear her in the depths of my dreams.
I call out. She is gone. No proof to what I say.
Scars bared to bleed, she opened up to hollow.
All day I wait to sleep, in my dreams I follow.

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