Him

There he stood, alone on the street,
Under the lamp, dressed in darkness.
He seemed to be waiting for me,
Just standing there, waiting for me.

I could feel his cold eyes on me,
They were staring at me, through me,
Staring through my self to my soul.

There he stood, alone and waiting,
Never moving, never breathing,
Until I took a step toward him.
Then he raised a bony finger,
Pointing at me, to me, for me.

Then, in an instant, he was gone.
He was no longer standing there,
Waiting for me or for my life.

And yet, I can still feel his eyes,
Those cold, dark eyes staring through me.
And I can almost see him there,
Just standing there, waiting for me.