He Waits
The shadows creep in, the darkness settles over,
And the moon sets its glowing cast over everything.
The quiet thinking, the silent looks,
Don’t overwhelm the expecting stranger.
Life goes on, only to be ended,
By the waiting shadow of death.
Doors creeping open, mice tip-toeing across the floor,
And scattered dreams are broken like shattered glass.
The day is gone and the night had settled over,
And the waiting guard begins its thoughtful watch.
No other one is watching, no one is waiting for the night to settle.
But yet, the guard must watch on, for the process has almost begun its ending.
Finally, the moon is right, and it has begun.
The silent but clunking shoes cross across the wooden floor,
To the room of one person,
The one person with no reason.
The door opens with a silent whoosh,
And the guard watches as the rhythmic breathing settles.
In and out, chest resting, chest falling, only to fall to its all time low.
How joyful and exhilarating it is,
As the thought of taking that breath away—
By your own hands—
Excites the guard’s waking essence.
Silently, he walks closer the breathing and rising chest.
He slowly and deliberately puts his black gloved hand over her mouth.
Slowly, her eyes open from a dreamy stare to surprise and alarm.
Her hand moves to his, but his index finger moves to his mouth in a vertical line.
She knows that she shouldn’t, but how would she be saved?
But that’s the point.
She won’t.
Without another hesitation or breath, the shiny metal slams against her chest,
And the light slowly dies.
The pupils dialate, the hands stop twitching, and finally,
The chest stops rising, and finally falls.
The blood splatters against the wall, hitting like stones, but the guard doesn’t care.
The blood is a clue, a clue that her life was taken by someone else.
He walks away silently into the night,
Only to wait again, in the darkness.
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