Dreams of a Strange Man

I started feeling sick at the break of dawn,
And even though it was hard to do,
I still slept on.
My dreams were something of a sort new.
They contained an image of a man,
With long hair, blue eyes, no tan.
This man, whose image was difficult to forget,
Was graceful and surprisingly elegant.
His style was towards the 19th century,
And his eyes would agree.
But the skin on his bones looked merely 20.
An elegant man he was, a beautiful one.
Every move of his was gracefully done.
Suddenly, his eyes landed on me,
and in a moment he was standing near.
The glassy, marble eyes stared at my once flameless ones,
But as he looked at me I felt a flash of danger.
And without a word he took my hand
lead me outside, where it was cold to stand.
He, however, had no shiver,
Just eyes that were filled with a purple colour.
The eyes said everything about him.
As I tried to turn away, he stopped me.
Unfortunately, this is where it ends,
for the sickness was overcome with health,
But til today, we have stayed friends.
Even though that on the time of day depends.