Telltale (a poem)

I awaken in the night,
alone in the dark.
No one in the house,
empty save for me
and our three cats.  

This loneliness;
long have I dreaded
the barren emptiness
of her cold embrace,
it chills my soul.  

My thoughts turn,
yet the air about me
lies still, undisturbed.
Tranquility without,
while inside, I spin.  

My mind folds in
the fears of tomorrow.
Her troubles twisting
around themselves,
as they enter my gut.  

Then I hear it, at first quiet,
the rhythm of footsteps
heavy on the floor,
slow but steady
with the weight of a man.  

Each step grows louder,
the sound penetrating,
reaching ever deeper
into the safe confines
and solitude of my room.  

My mind’s eye sees him;
a dark, foreboding figure.
A gloved hand reaches
slowly, imperceptibly
it wraps around the handle.  

The lump in my throat
begins to choke me.
It is then that I realize
this late-night intruder,
the source of my fear.

‘Twas naught but me
and the steady mechanical
droning of my heart.
Then, suddenly,

it stops.  

~ elr