I'll watch you for hours after you fall asleep.

Sometimes I can see your face change shape in the darkness. Like when I was a child and I thought that the pictures in my room came to life when the lights went out. Through that same trick of light I can almost see you change from your beautiful pure self into something wicked. Your full mouth, high brow, distending into some ugly misshapen mask. I can hardly recognise you sometimes, as I watch you for hours, the bones of your face shifting with the car lights from the street outside. The sick yellow glare of the streetlamp merely adds to the Hades effect. Sometimes I would drive a stake through your heart, but I fear you don’t have one.