I do not like having to squint.

The bright lights are unwelcomed, I do not like the way it glints

against the tile on the floor, or wood on this desk

my brain is pounding, face squinted ugly and grotesque

I do not like transitioning from a dark room to a shining one in a flick

The feel of an intense white screen in a dim room makes me sick.

 

I do not like heat.

I do not like the way that I feel my blood boiling and my heart beat

I beg for moonlit evenings in the comfort of a forest

My body earns for a shiver or the simple chorus

of wind whistling through dark, ink blotted branches,

unexpected snowstorms or omnipotent avalanches

 

I lay down on the ground and feel cool soil on my fingertips

The grass is like a cushion and clouds move and shift

They remind me of how life is still moving, even though time is manmade

They remind me of how life will never stop moving, no matter the debts I’ve paid

I must never stop moving no matter how much I want to stop and take a damn

break that lasts forever and stops my thoughts right then and there.

I yearn for darkness so often it gets too much to bear.

 

I do not like brightness.

I like the feeling of needing the warmth of what I trust enough to cling to

I like shivering against a body that feels like it needs me too

I like stability.

I like falling so deep into the dark that I do not want to look back at the light,

I like having to wonder about what the darkness holds instead of being told by mere sight

 

I am not scared of the dark.

But the dark is scared of himself.

 

The darkness cannot see the things he creates, he cannot wonder at what he holds

The darkness yearns for a flicker of a candle for his reflection to be shown

The darkness likes to bathe himself in the sun until his skin turns burgundy

He likes to soak in the bright lights and squint his face furiously,

He likes to follow the light as it returns to it’s home

and give her the darkness that she yearns to hold.