I lay down to sleep every night,
and I imagine I am in your warm embrace,
being kept safe from the childish fears I hold onto in the daylight and the dark.
And in my twilight moment,
between resting and waking nightmares,
I almost believe it as a fact, that I am no longer alone, no longer fragile.
When I rise in the morning,
I call your name to silence,
and a bit of the color in my world fades, turns to gray.
You have disappeared, and I am once again alone and afraid.
Where is it that you go,
when you disappear from my mortal plane?
Is it a better place?
A beautiful place?
One full of the colors you have taken from me, and the warmth you give in return?
Or is it tragic, broken, cold and colorless?
A place you are bound to by obligation, and not preference?
Where happiness is few and far between?
And then I realize,
that you don't go anywhere.
It is me that is leaving you every day.
And I hate myself for it.