Shadow

The doll sits still upon the shelf,
Its painted eyes see right through self.
A silent smile, a porcelain tear,
Whispering secrets you can't quite hear.

The attic stairs creak in the night,
Though no one climbs, there is no light.
A dusty scent, a chilling breeze,
Rustling whispers through the trees.

The shadow moves across the wall,
Though no one stands there, tall and gaunt.
A finger trails along your spine,
A breath that surely isn't thine.