In the Dark: Part II of Voices

In the dark, I leaned my head against the glass. I wanted to break it. I wanted to feel close to you. But I've never felt so far away because that glass was harder than steel. 

In the dark, I tried to hear you breathing, wondered if our hearts beat in sync. There were less than inches between us, closer than we'd ever been, yet I felt as though we'd never been further apart. 

In the dark, you found me and held me. With your arms around me, I felt safe, but it wasn't real. It was just another one of my fantasies. 

Still in the dark, I pretend I hear your voice calling my name. I know I'm deluding myself, but I answer back anyway.

I lose track of time and space and light as I sit silently, helpless to stop the invisible spiders from crawling up my back and filling me with desperate terror.

I lie awake at night and wish that I could see the stars, but there's a ceiling there instead.

In the dark for too long, I'm trying to find some light, even a flash of lightning. 

But after spending too long in the darkness, the light hurts.

So I'm still in the dark.