The first time was blurry,

The image of people lying beside me,

My mother tells me,

My eyes were glassy,

I was too small,

Memories and words spoken I cannot recall,

But I must have sensed him,

And he must have sensed me.


The second time is more recent,

I was afraid and the air felt vacant,

But it only lasted for a moment,

Healing by the second,

It was in the fall,

Memories and words spoken I do recall,

I did not see him,

He did not see me.


This time the ticking of the clock is measured,

Unsure, but every breath is treasured,

There is both hope and dread in the eclipse that has occurred,

The feeling has yet to be triggered,

I am waiting and staring at the wall,

Memories and words spoken I will recall,

I cannot yet feel him,

He cannot yet feel me.


But in this daydream,

I can clearly imagine him,

Come with me now,

I’ll show you what this nightmare,

Reminds me of:

Of graveyards and crows,

Of burning pyres,

Of leafless trees and the stench of bodies,

Of ghosts and spirits floating,

Of ruin and decay,

Of bones buried under the earth,

Of his figure in a long, black cloak with his infamous scythe,

Of his putrid hands and his stinking breath,

Of the dead and himself.


3 thoughts on “Him

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