Popular Mystery Poems

He had straight blonde hair and was young.
Perhaps I was too
He showed me a large, luxurious bedroom with many windows
I loved it,
but it was a guest room.

Who was he?
He worked at a bowling alley.
Wha?
No...
Well, maybe it's okay

He showed me another beautiful guest space.
Why?
And what made him keeper of the keys?

I change into a clingy, champagne-colored dress
It looks great
How is this possible?

He's wonderful
He's an idiot
No, he's perfect
but he's...

I sleep badly, coming to often in the dark to the sound of banging pipes behind the walls and the night wind. Your mum's words to me at the house on Headersleigh Bridge replay each time I drift off, disturbing me again. You know perfectly well why the police came to see us, Alan. They had news for us. I wander over to the sink for a glass of water and switch on the television, leaving the volume on silent to avoid disturbing Robert. I sit wrapped in an old jacket, shivering.  I wish Lana were here. I'm too tired to sleep, too tired to concentrate. I feel old.

I drift off again....

By the time I return to The Factory, the hall lights have come back on. I find Mel by the lift, fiddling with a fuse box, but there's no sign of Robert. I'm about to ask why Robert's upstairs on his own when Mel hears my footsteps, turns round and smiles. I nearly take a step back. The woman isn't Mel, just someone who resembles her, more in height than anything else. The girl, about my sister's age, maybe younger, has long dark brown hair and wears a blue top and pair of tight jeans. She has no shoes on. I would imagine she must be freezing.

'Hi there. You're new, aren't you?'...