he
looked at me today
and then
I felt his touch
on my
shoulder even though his arm didn't seem to move
and the
chill runs to my spine
and I smile and the
little hairs on my arm stand up
and his look deepens
and I'm
swallowed
and my entire body
chills
but
I still feel his touch on my face
(his arm didn't seem to move)
This is an original piece from high school; I was experimenting with different viewpoints in poetry. The intent of this poem was to write from the first-person perspective as someone else.
(Hopefully, the speaker comes off as being female; thanks to Stephen King for the antagonist's inspiration--he was intended to be something like the evil shopkeeper in Needful Things.)