The shadows come to life at night,
moving without sound 
like a bird in mid-flight.
Trying desperately to get your attention,
located just out of the boundaries of the feel of
affection.
trapped by surfaces where they cant be felt, they begin to
melt, accompanied by light, (they) which are darkened, (the
light) which is bright, is cast upon them 
and they escape clean out of sight
retreat behind objects that harbor them unwillingly,
following you, left unnoticed, ignored so strongly.
they could get away with a killing spree.
no one would suspect, the shadow of a tree.
the dark ghost, cast by day, upon you and me.
mimicking our every move, living in total silence
concealed beneath our bodies by the swift over-taking of
darkness, they escape back to the quiet, persistent
blackness. unseen. scott-free. only to return again
unknowingly.