And still,
You are interwoven,
Ingrained into my very thoughts.

It needs to just leave me alone.
Let me sleep.
Leave me with thoughts of love.
Not thoughts of panic.

Welcome to my Panic Room.
Where instead of sleep,
Thoughts of terror come into play.
And I can feel the swelling of my throat;
As if I were allergic to the tragedy.
My heart beats as if it were a horse race.

Welcome to my Panic Room.
Where a bed lay in the center.
One I wish to sleep upon and dream of fearing nothing.
Yet I sit in the corner;
All curled up to protect myself from the monster that's coming.
Only to realize, every time,
The monster is inside me.

This is it, isn't it?
Here it is, the time.
It's staring me in the face,
Dark, lonely eyes
Weaving a tale ridden with tragedy.

Gut clenching
Hands shaking
Muscles cramping
Heart weakening
It's time, isn't it?
It's here.

Forgive me,
I knew it was close.
I didn't know
I didn't see.
I failed.

Here I am,
Though I have no right,
No connection.
I wait.
Silent.
Listening.

*It's time.

I want to wake in the middle of the night, only conscious enough to recognize your scent, to the sensation of you pulling back my covers and climbing into bed with me. I want to drift off again, only after you’ve enveloped me with your body, to the gentle whisper of your breath on the back of my neck. My last thought before unconsciousness settles back over my mind will be your name, and how I’ve missed you.