I've never thought anyone should be alone,
      it's like "a demon tied--"
                well, you get the idea.
But I've found friends have a knack
for leaving without saying goodbye.
    Normally I don't give a ****...

But something inside,
a little, seldom heard shadow voice
spoke
loudly--
suggesting I traverse to the top of the turquoise mountain
where your plexi/stained-glass-glow-in-the-dark shelter sits.
I know I shouldn't,
                but this voice seems convinced
                I should make some sort of
                exception for you.
                I think it knows something I don't....


The energy you radiate
whispers you're alive.
And I write,
      and I write--
mostly psychobabble graffiti
all over your protective bubble.  
       It's supposed to be a playful gesture,
I'm thinking about you!
I don't know if I can stop--
thinking
or writing...
I think it's a distraction
to ignore my fears...
And I write,
      and I write--

But the darkest
within me rustles
in blind, mute nightfall.
I can hear it breathing,
claws scratching the rock on the mountain...

              I await for the knock on your side
              telling me to stop,
              but I think realization
              has set in for both of us...

                                           you're head will explode
                                           regardless,
                                           but, at least this time,
                                 we can say goodbye.