i.
this is a song called fear and it consists of late nights crying silently in the bathroom and the sound of falling without hitting the ground.

ii.
you always used to run your fingers through my hair, a guardian angel from the next room over, whenever i startled awake at night, struggling to remember how to expel the air from my lungs. you were too soft on me, murmuring heartbreaking words of encouragement and wonder. if only you knew that my dreams were not loss of fire but loosing of rage, and you were the only casualty (casualty of my own internal conflict, acidic self-loathing attacking this peculiar kind of love).

iii.
i will not leave you, a whisper in what sounds like your voice, but this cold heart of mine cannot hope to believe it. i have been left too many times to count, by all but the demons dancing around the bonfire of my mind. you may love me as you say, brother, but i will only cause you pain.

iv.
i am always running, running, running, the soles of my shoes melting into the tarmac with heat rising in waves to blur the air (or it could just be my tired eyes playing their old tricks). the monsters are nipping at my heels, and i would not be able to live with myself if i led them to you.

v.
please forgive me for what i must do to protect my family (to protect you).

h.f.m.