The Dark

I brush my fingers over

the lights; darkness blankets the air.

Each thought glides out, creeping

like a snake, a monster under the bed.

No warmth can keep the coldness away,

the coldness within

that is more debilitating than icy wind.

No mother's touch is there

to drive it away, no friend's voice

to distract me.

Only the haunted house of my heart knows

and only it will know.