The Reaper Tattoo

He floats leisurely through the dead of night
Skulking the shadows for damned and demonic
Souls, his scythe glowing a luminous grey in the 
Dark. His grey armor with silver trim gleams like
A beacon of hope to fool those who think themselves
Safe from his wrath, the reaper swings the scythe 
Haphazardly, without a care in heaven or hell, 
Sure he has the correct mark as a thick, black smoke fills
Momentarily then dissolves into his scythe. 
The reaper glides into the night and the shadows hide
Within themselves to escape his deadly, unforgiving 
Gaze. A gaze that penetrates to the depth s of your soul
And forces you to question your very existence, a gaze
That reflects your life playing in front of your eyes, a gaze
That makes you relive every sinful, embarrassing moment,
Moments that you wish to forget entirely but never will because
The reaper won’t let you, refuses to let you.
The reaper saunters into the night, the shadows clearing a 
A path as they would for a king, the reaper’s hood flaps
In the calm breeze that seems to know better than to become
A full gust of wind, lest the reaper erase its very existence
And with that the human race. The reaper swings its scythe
Again in that haphazard manner, not doubting for a second that
Its hit its mark for the second time as another thick and silky 
Looking smoke fills the air and dissolves into the scythe. The 
Reaper taps the scythe on the ground and smoke circles around 
It and then dissolves quickly. 
The reaper looks into the night and the moon seems to blush
In embarrassment, the reaper’s unforgiving gaze softens and
A loving and serene expression makes its way across the 
Reaper’s face. Then, something happens that seems even
More impossible . . . the reaper turns its head and looks at
Me. It’s gaze maintaining that same loving and serene expression,
I feel like the only girl in the world, for some reason. Which is 
Ironic, considering I’m spying on the boy I have an insane crush
When I look at the reaper tattoo again it has reverted to its
Normal state, the boy gets up and his back muscles tense.
I watch with rapt attention and start to get warm inside, my
Heart pounds in my chest and gives my ears a good 
Ring, my hands get sweaty, my breathing becomes
Labored as a wave or ecstasy washes over me. I know
I should leave before he turns and sees me but my legs
Won’t cooperate, all the blood seems to have gone to my
Head and refuses to circulate back around. His long hair
And strong shoulders practically melt me, and the way that
Reaper tattoo is perfectly and intricately designed on his strong
And chiseled back, accompanied by a chest made of marble, no
No doubt, gives rise to thought, dangerous thoughts, wild and 
Crazy thoughts, thoughts a high school girl shouldn’t have but
It having them anyway.
I hear a loud creak that almost makes me scream and the boy
Snaps his head left and I duck behind the wall, hoping to god
He didn’t see me. I run down the hall toward the staircase, not
Taking the chance.  

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