The Skull

By Colin Johnson

Those pupils had exchanged a glance with me before,
I knew it for a fact.
Those teeth have spoken to me before,
and it was clear to me now.
The cream colored skull was a friend of mine,
In which followed me wherever I went.
Through the forest, on a bike, hiking up a mountain,
he was mysterious.
At night his eyes crept out of his mouth,
His teeth hopped out of his eye sockets,
And he turned into something I could never imagine.