Living Shroud

She lies upon her bed,
lost in a deep sleep
as the tropic moon hangs
in the gloomy, inky sky.
Shadows lengthen
across her breast;
the muggy air thickens
around her chest;
eerie silence befalls
the darkening room.

Hist! Hist!
A black ripple lingers
in the darkest corner,
absorbing the last
of a once peaceful
atmosphere.

It slinks along
the crumbling ground,
smoothly glides onto
her bed.
One touch of her wrist
and the color flees her face.
Her eyes fly open,
but life seeps out
from under her skin.
It feeds upon her,
bulging from Its nightly meal,
until her essence ebbs
and her being vanishes into
the humid air,
now like unto dust.

As slowly as It started,
It slithers back into
Its cretinous corner,
waiting for the night
to fall once again.