Poetry by Dythandra

Your Secret Admirer

You shouldn't be surprised; being so very... trusting.
I mean, you left your backpack just sitting there
When you went to the office to get the message.

You didn't understand the message they gave you--
I didn't mean you to--just call the number your "mother" left.
I know what you will hear--and how long it will take.
I worked hard on that recording.

Your mother should have checked in the back of her van
When she and her boss snuck away.
My recording skills are unparalleled,
And I can pick a lock in 20 seconds.

I should care that you were traumatized,
The sounds of her indiscretions captured and revealed.
But I will be there to comfort you eventually...
When I am finished with the last shreds of your confidence.

Your backpack isn't uncommon. I found 20 at Walmart.
I only needed one, and now it magically hangs over your chair
So no one notices my rummaging.

The treasures are considerable; some of the photos I recognize,
and then I cut out their eyes--they don't deserve to look at you.
I hesistate and then I program my number into your phone.
I name it "Destiny". You will understand soon enough.

You should've been more careful at the party last week,
Unattended drinks are so very inviting.
How beautifully you slept.

So very peaceful--the vial of blood around my neck,
Liberated as you dreamt.
Have you even missed the lock of hair?
My cousin's barbie wears it so well, hanging over my bed.

Now it's back--your belongings safely stowed,
My decoy again beneath my desk.
It's too bad just as you return to class,
Wiping the tears from your eyes,
The Vice Principal will suddenly appear.

How will you explain, the bag, its contents?
Surely there's too much there for personal use.
You must be a dealer--it's so very simple.

Don't be afraid--the contact number for your mother
Now rings my cell.
Trust me, my love.
Soon you will understand. Everything.