Reading aloud to my love,
we step into the tale together--
we push past the need for sleep
to squeeze in another chapter.
Hoarse and tired,
I close the book and my eyes
as he asks why
it seems so many stories go subterranean--
he not being a fan of deep dark places
and our current scene being
the sewers of 1860's London.
and remind the horror writer
of what makes his work successful.