Her Worst Fears By Mik Tampold

A man came to my door today

At first, his intention was unknown

But I wanted to get away from him before it could be shown

His hair was singed and smoking, blackened at the tips

His smile could’ve been contagious

If it weren’t for the sinister curvature of his lips

His tuxedo was the farthest it could’ve been from plain

And his skin must’ve been as white as cocaine

 

His bouquet was of black roses, their smell all-consuming

He grabbed me by the hand while I looked upon those flowers blooming

“You’re such a pretty thing, my dear, with your face as white as a sheet,”

“Come with me, and your afterlife will be complete.”