i once stole a feather from a bluebird
it twitched and stirred and cried out my name
and jolted away but i wept all the same

your name has already been etched into my ribs, you remind me
so be it, i proclaim, then i shall become an arsonist
and light myself aflame if it means ridding myself of your darkness

i do love the sea
i do love you, love you, like
a drowning sailor

i have nothing left to say, really
but i'll keep talking because i don't know what else i can do

i think the reason why we fear the dark so adamantly
is because it is to us a blank canvas
a void upon which we paint

when the day arrives the sun etches in outlines of trees and skies
splashes color upon the grass, the birds, and the houses
and we understand what these figures mean

but the dark? it is for us to imagine
and we fear what horrors our imagination can conceive
we let our minds run wild in dreams and memories and thoughts
and wait in morbid anticipation for our deadliest nightmares
to come crawling back out and tear up our canvas with snarling teeth

perhaps i need someone to admire me
since no one else will do the job