I see him in alleyways lost in the gloom
As oft as I spy him disguised in my room
As the burning of candles, by the heat of the flame
Or a push down the stairs- it’s to him all the same.

I catch him in headlights that speed by too fast,
And all of a sudden my die has been cast,
I spot his gaunt outline in fluorescent glow,
While I stall in a waiting room somewhere below.

Obscurity masks his intentions for me
And I still am not safe while behind lock and key,
So I garnish myself with his grave souvenirs 
A vase of dead violets, a skull on my ear.

Will then he look kindly at my sallow face
As he vows to exclude me from his sure embrace?
No- but he’ll see my odd penchant for woe
And perhaps until then I’ll be friend and not foe.