watching the detective

when i became
sherlock holmes for a a few
years.

i enjoyed it in a dark sort of way.
finding
clues in
every dark corner
of every closet.

each drawer a treasure chest
of betrayal

and lies.
it was a creepy world.
slimely.

reading e mails
and watching from afar,

finding footsteps
on the trail,
deep into the woods
where the murder took place.

but someone had to do it,
someone
had to get to the bottom

of who killed a heart
and left it bleeding on the side
of the road.

i found no pleasure in it,
despite
the skills i developed
over time.