I see things

On the rainy nights

On those terrible nights

Filled with frights

Honestly, I think something’s wrong with me

Who else would see

The man outside

And who else would feel

The watching of his eyes

I will go walking, and I see him beside me, walking with an umbrella in his hands and a butterfly on his pale fingers.

He would ask me if I was cold

Did I need assistance?

Did I want to share the umbrella he held?

He would always smile at my resistance.

With his white eyes, and his black trench coat; his neckless body and his pale, grainy skin. He called chills up my spine, but a butterfly sat upon him.

That butterfly

It saw no threat

Nothing at all

Maybe that’s why let him help

We were so close, but the air around us was warm. We said nothing at all, the only sound the pattering of rain above our heads. The butterfly moved from the man to my shoulder and seemed content there.

I smiled

The man beside me smiled as well

He was always smiling

I suppose that’s why I stayed

Why I’m still here, smiling. He isn’t scary, no he’s rather nice, and he’ll wait for you when you’re in a fright. He’ll offer you help and give you double; but then you’ll be in trouble.

I’m still here, here in this world. Stuck smiling in a room filled with others. My butterfly is frozen upon me, such as I. But I’m happy forever, I suppose.

Happy with all the others.