I loathed light because it was bright, and it doesn't have the safety of night, and darkness, and the secret of your embrace and and gentle touches and soft whispers. In that little room in my head I was the happiest I can be, but then there was a whole house left full of you that made me want to lock the room's door and throw away the key.
For the rest of the house was silent, cold, untouched.
Because you weren't there, not anymore.
You only lived int the little room in my head, and when morning light comes you fade away. You disappear, and I force myself to stay awake. I forced the panic to a faint fluttering in my chest before it consumes me, as I wait for morning to be over.
I wait for the night to return, so I can close my eyes in bittersweet relief and retreat to that little room in my head.
In my head, I was in your arms again.
The calm returns, and now
I can go to sleep.