nyctophobia.

i.
i'd wake up to the darkness that surrounds me
and reach around myself, gripping for a pillow or something to hold me
and then i'd hear you say
'shh, it's okay'
in a voice too deep for drowsiness
and i'd fall back into my nightmare.

ii.
i'd wake up to the darkness that surrounds me
and meet your powder blue gaze and you'd say
'don't worry, it'll feel better tomorrow'
and i wouldn't know what you meant until three hours later
when i caressed my new stitched heart and felt the wound on my rocketing lungs
and i'd fall back into my nightmare.

iii.
i'd wake up to the darkness that surrounds me
and the rain would be pouring outside the window with five-second lightning streaks
and the thunder would smack the ground and resonate my thoughts and you'd say
'you must've felt it when the lightning struck your happiness'
and i wouldn't tell you i only felt the lightning through your fingers
or the thunder through your undeserving tongue
and i'd fall back into my nightmare.

iv.
i'd wake up to the darkness that surrounds me
and i'd look over to what i thought was a sound asleep face
but as i reach for the light switch your eyes would flicker open and you'd say
'no, you're prettier in the dark'
so i'd think maybe we do have something i common
and i'd fall back into my nightmare.

v.
this time i'd wake up to the lights switched on with my heart trying to break through the stitches
while i watched you stack poetry books in your worn-out run away bag and i'd listen to you murmur sleepily
(i think this is the only time you've ever been tired)
about how the moon should've never turned those lights on and the sun should've let it go
and you'd skip over the clouds and fly away from me
and then i'd realize that maybe there's some reality in every nightmare and a little bit of light in the pitch darkness.