Untitled One

I once met a man
who had no face
and this man, he had no voice
but yet we communicated somehow
sometimes i would see him
staring in from my windows
and sometimes i swear he was standing next to me
i would reach over
and for a split second
i felt him, or i thought i did
the faceless one
would be watching me sleep
and he would slowly wrap his arms around me
but warmth i did not feel
sometimes i would think that i heard his voice
but i know that's not possible for he did not speak
sometimes i watch him when i have time
and i manage to catch him by the arm
and watch him move his hands
like a skilled carpenter, rebuilding the White House
yes, i knew this man was like no other
and from time to time, i would hide from him
but he always caught me, with his fingers like string
grasping me from the waist and dragging me down
and i did not care, for fear was not there
but yesterday i thought i saw
something that i know was impossible
but yesterday i saw
the man's face
covered in scars, but bleeding bright pink

*bah, its late and my brains dead from the studying. i'll probably scrape this poem*