poetry

Mosquito Bites

Where have they come from, these bumps?
These raised, red lumps;
Itching, stinging, unsightly attention-seeking.

It was you, wasn't it?

I'll catch you, be sure of it.
My blood will boil;
My skin taut - vexed with your elusion.

That's it; that's what you want!

Is it sweet when you probe your proboscis?
Is it to your satisfaction, sir?
Was the temperature just right, sir?

You only come at night.
A burgar, taking all you want.
I'm just one big blood bank to you; evil little you.

Show yourself.
Give me a fighting chance and let us duel.
Or are you as much a coward as you are a striking thief?

You're probably watching right now; mocking.
Hiding in your hidden home on hidden wings,
Ready to swoop and snatch your prize.

I've invested, to rid the riddle.
I'll have you;
Evil little you.