While a man slept, a cloaked figure entered his dreams.

A fog of decay enveloped its cold visage,

Putrid flesh clung to its bones as its hand reached out,

Pointing’s finger at the man as he cried aloud,

Terrified of the Image of Death before him.

A whisper, he

Hears, “Don’t leave me.”

As hard as he tried, he couldn’t wake from the nightmare,

It seemed he couldn’t shake the horror before him;

This dream that wished to consume his life and his love.

He tried fighting the beast, but it got him nowhere,

And giving into it was utterly foolish.

Again, he hears

It, “Please, come back.”

This Beast though, this demon, Death, was all in his head;

An aspect of fear made of his own desire;

A manifestation of illusory lies.

He looked the Image of Death in’s eyes, two embers

Smoldering, closed his, smiled, and said: “You don’t exist.”

Finally, she

Said: “I love you.”

Then, he awoke.