You

There is something about the cold,still air

That made your senses sharpen

And suddenly, you see every hair on your arm, standing up

And feel small bumps infecting your skin,

And you can smell the must and dust trickling into your nose,

Then, you hear, the faintest sound of something exhaling

Inhaling.

And you taste the sweet,metallic flavor of blood trickling into your mouth

Your blood.

Exhaling.

On your shoulder stand the thing you most fear, the thing that cripples you,

Crushes you.

Inhaling.

This creature this thing

Has your thoughts, has your secrets

Has your eyes, height,

Exhaling.

And you fear it most because of those similarities.

And yet, you sympathize for it.

Because you know what it thinks, what it feels.

And that  kills you.