His eyes are lifeless

The lenses gazing into my soul

His smile is endless, his absent lips stretch to his non existent ears

He seems dark,

Malignant

But he’s kind

His actions are zephyr-like

The glide of the pastel stick; so nimble

His skin is cold as ice

His fingers long and boney

He seems like a monster

Like a dark apparition here to cause anguish and ache

But he’s kind

I told my mom of him

Of his gentle demeanor

She said to stay away; to not speak to him

But he’s kind

One night, he came

I offered him pastels, toys of plastic and wood a plenty

But he reached out his hand; his fingers waiting for mine to meet with his

He seemed different

His demeanor cold and peculiar

I take it, gripping my hand to his thumb

He seems so intent, leading me into the dark space that crowds my room

But he’s kind,

So I follow