As I lay in intemperate dismay
Upon my bed at night,
Faceless Sleep comes to me
And fills my body with freight.
He looks down at me
From his nightmare steed,
Dressed in a cloak of black.
The horse rises up on its hind legs
And neighs as if to chaff.
I want to run, but my body freezes
As the specter slowly reaches
For his sword.
I brace my heart, for it is my only shield.
Emblazoned across it is the name “Lucille”—
And when the blade is stabbed through my heart,
I feel her die,
As I did long ago,
When she kissed my lips
For the last time.

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