1I realize you're a friend now, but tonight I can't let you leave.
This room is too white, too dark, too much like the one I left back home.
Countless sounds meld into a blaring cry that frightens me into silence and the refuge of my covers.
It burns a redness on my face and carves a shiver deep within my spine.
Solitude was consolation, but now you've come to set me free.
So, talk away the midnight hour and scare away the hush for me.
I can't rest no knowing where you've been and what your life has meant.
So, get undressed and spend the night and speak until I'm deaf.
I promise not to resign myself to sleep until I've seen the sun.
Slumber is for the weak, though you've sworn to meet me there when I succumb
I wonder if you've noticed how you stutter when you mention me.
Then, unmindful of falters, your words stay smooth, steady, and humbling.
You promise not to lie to me if your eyes are matched to mine
And you promise not to slur when that shrew comes back for checks tonight.
I wonder if you've noticed how your eyes dart to the color on my cheek.
A moment passes and you make me feel as if I've never left home at all.
You rise to shut the door with the finality of a hollow click.
All the while, you beguile me into keeping the bed warm for you.
I'm sure they hear your chains dragging desolately on the tile floor.
Still, they leave us be and I save my tears for another time.
I wish I could compensate for what I've put you through,
The author of the most bleak and the voice of the quiet lies.
You promise to wait until the day I leave to fade from me.
And as you lead me on with great avowals, you stutter as you mention me.
For you, I'll chew and swallow every crow I see.
I realize you're a figment now, but tonight I can't let you leave.
You've come to me courtesy of summer heat and that gash that bleeds,
Sluggishly above my temple, but you've promised to be more than that.
And still, I wonder if you've noticed how you stutter when you mention me.