 |
||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|||
|
She stands in a field of black roses Waiting for me. She beckons with a skeletal finger, And I shiver. Eyes that are not there bore into me, Sinking like claws into my brain. “Come with me....” From beyond the grave she reaches out, Stronger than I ever was. A hot, dry wind picks up as she nears me, Yet somehow I am soaked. A fleshless hand reaches up to caress my face And I wake up, Drenched in midnight sweat.
|
|||