That feeling again.

The feeling of being watched.

A tinge on my skin, that

seeps all the way down

until i'm too red to notice.

The slightest aroma

feeling out of place

in the crispness of the night-air;

Your smell.

The snap of a branch,

the crackle of the wind through the trees.

Lest, the invisible ghostly figure,

lingering in the air.

A breathe after we're through

playing our moon games again.

Tell me who you are,

for you act like the shadow of death.

And all I can see is the illumination of your skin; paper-white.

The slits that would be your eyes; silvery glow.

The glimmer of teeth that act as your sneer; razor sharp.

but you couldn't be him,

whom i hate with a passion.

neither could you ever be him,

whom I love with all my heart.