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 On. 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.