Poem about a nightmare that he had once. My second attempt at a Winchester poem, let me know what you think! Dark!
My Nightmare
I had a dream once
that I saw, reflected behind me in the bathroom mirror,
Death himself. He watched me
watching him, he stroked his chin while I
shaved. I brushed my teeth and his own white skull smiled.
It actually grinned.
Can bone do that?
I ignored him, but I could still feel him in the corner of my
chattering lips. The mesmeric hum of the cheap fluorescent lighting
beat at my ear drums.
Or maybe that was him.
Sharpening his fingernails with disposable
razors, he glanced at me again. I combed shaking fingers
through my hair and He
traced his tongue, delicately,
along the blades' edges.
Then, he took a deep breath.
Sliced.
I pressed my palms against my eyes.
"No, no," I whispered. I didn't want that.
I didn't want to see Him anymore.
That's when he broke through the glass and
pried away my hands to see
my mouth,
open,
black and finally empty,
like those sockets that stared back at me.
