You were moon-drunk, speaking words
only uttered under the stars
because even you yourself feared
what left your swollen tongue.
You feared yourself more than I did
and that scared you.
But it scared me more knowing
that it would happen again, knowing
that your shadow would grow darker
every night until your star-sipped liquor
turned your fear into another monster
in the night; one that this time,
I couldn't run away from.

Maybe the night is associated with fear
because it thrives on vulnerability.
Because when the sky is dark
and the world is silent,
everyone wraps their blankets around
themselves to hide their fear,
they crawl further under the sheets to
ease their shivering.
I know the night makes me
feel vulnerable.
Every aspect of its being
constricts me in its cold embrace,
growing tighter with each poisoned
memory.
The smell of the blazing fire and the liquor
in the icy midnight air.
Each stars' glow only momentarily visible
behind the heavy and pounding rain.
The moon running behind the clouds as
the sky turns black from the absence of
its light.
The night is deadly and cold, so cold.
My lips are turning blue and my fingers
are shaking because the night sky is
getting exactly what it wants.
Don't you see? It thrives off of fear, it gains
power with the uneasiness it brings.
Monsters do not lurk in the night.
The night is the monster.
And it's killing me.