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.