Like a Breath (Poem)

Like a Breath
By
Derek A. Schneider




He comes to me like a breath.
As subtle as silk.
As substantial as a mist that hangs over the graves of long dead souls.

As a man born of blood and fear,
My faith was misplaced centuries ago.
Never a sheep.
Never a follower.
Ever unwilling to believe so blindly
That which I could not see with my own eyes.

I believe in him.

A specter of agony,
A phantom of sadness,
A constant reminder of the atrocities I’ve committed
Against those who have trusted me.

Still…

He comes to me like a breath.
As sullen as midnight.
As menacing as the skeletal face of The Reaper himself,
Staring down on me with doom in his eyes.

As a wraith born of malice and sin,
He stands at the foot of my bed and glares.
Ever transparent.
Ever punctual.
Never a change in his ritual with each passing night.

Then he screams.

A scream of hate.
A scream of terror.
A belligerent cry of the suffering and abandonment that I’ve wrought
on those who have loved me.

And still…

He comes to me like a breath
Like the very exhalation of ice
And he screams in his horror at my continued existence.
O how I’ve prayed to the one I’ve never loved
How I’ve pined for one single, solitary, uninterrupted night of sleep.
How those screams have haunted me,
A waking nightmare that threatens to never end
Until my heart erupts from fear,
Until my eyes bleed from the sight,
Until my thoughts cease to be
Until I’m pushed to the very precipice of madness,
Like a wondering corpse
Lost in my cravings
Lost in my ravings
Lost in the wails of a haunting spirit
That will only be satisfied when
The worms go to fest on my frail
And rotting carcass.

Yet still…

He comes to me like a breath.