I suspect that when I was asleep,
you sewed a thread to my chest.
You chose its colour so scrupulously
that it perfectly matched my pale skin.
Still it wasn’t too white, nor too thin
and its whimsical pattern blended into my breast.
And then you started playing hide-and-seek
not having stated if I should count to ten or more.
I blindfold myself and you sneak
out for a place to hide in some dark
corner of your inner self, leaving the 'follow me' mark
and a couple of clues scribbled with chalk on the door.
As you’re out, the thread tightens so that
I shake and drop the flashlight
I’d use to get faster to you.
Whatever, it wasn’t so bright.
(One)
I can feel those drops showing through
(Two)
my shirt. Ouch, I touched it.
(Three)
It hurt
(Four)
I’m pretty sure the drops are red
(Five)
Now it’s itchy
(Six)
I stained the thread
(Seven)
with my fingers. Stop pulling, will you?
(Eight)
I’m fine, it’s just tingling in my head
(Nine)
And my lips are getting numb
(Ten)
Ready or not – here I come.