An ardent young
woman captive
in a suburban
basement, now
reported missing
but I’m here
though you don’t
see me, no matter
how loudly I bark
your real name,
sing your secret
needs, or tear
the scab off your
stifled yearning
while you sleep—
I am the obscured
object of your
aching night,
the blackest hole
in your desire.
-
Author:
Vipassana (
Offline) - Published: December 19th, 2025 01:05
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
This poem capitalizes off dark desires of power, subjugation, control that becomes sensual and sexual. It calls out from the cellar of ones dreams. Very visceral. Well worded creepy is a good word. This poem reaches into the recesses of shadow where repulsion meets seduction and horror greets passion. Tapping deep enough into black primitive roots of rule by force. This one rose from revulsion to a fave
Thank you for all of your generous comments, for taking the time to make thoughtful replies. Much appreciated. All the best to you, especially as you enter the new year.
You are most well come and a happy holiday season to you as well
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