It Only Comes Out At Night

My soul doesn't sleep at night.
All the darkness does is serve to remind
how alone and afraid the night can be.
A reminder of how my soul,
how it can only have this one real connection
and that anything else is just finite.

There is the absence of light
this fear of all the burning it brings
and the pain it reveals.
All of the ugly scars and the truth
that can no longer hide from me.
All reveled in an instant to the world
all the secrets worked so hard to conceal.

The night hides everything I never wanted
and is given to me in dreams.
Dreams of Hell fire and
of deepest wasters of darkness.
Reminders of the finite little boy here,
that he cannot survive nature
much less his own fears.

It's this night that acts as a cancer
eating at my soul.
Showing every little fault line
and every moment that has cut my heart,
pressing deep on the wounds
making me unable to breath.

It is this night that dares to taunt me
and dares to remind me of my loss.
How this chasm has grown deeper by day
and wider by night.

To live is to hurt.
Memories are bitter sweet
but sometimes so bitter
that I do not know if I was better with them
or without them at the time,
much less now
when all the final nail needs
is just a simple breeze.

Love is not finite.
It has no compromises.
Just that which is imposed on it
to please those it needs.
So that it is not forever alone.
Love mends, builds and restores.
Just as easy as it kills on a whim.
Passionate insanity,
a delusion based in the soul
and carried out by a diseased mind and body.

But it is this coming night I fear.
The night when I awake to find the day has fled
and all is now hidden by night eternal.
That you are nowhere to be found
and I weep alone,
held in place by the nights cover.
Keeping me sanitized
from the offensive perturbation
and protrusion
of love into this night
hiding my soul so sweetly
and with the utmost kindness
found only in the night's dark charity.