Best read in black

She knows the names of nightmares,
Though we all do at different times,
We know the way the wind grows still before they slip into our minds.

We know their icy grip,
The race of heartbeats in their palm,
The jolt awake into a world,
That is to disturbingly calm.

We know the routine of the regulars:
The monsters under beds,
The voices calling in the night,
And those inside our heads.

But hers, they're something other.
They are a longing and a lack,
Creatures darker than shapes that have been molded from black.

They bring the kind of fear that comes from waiting for the scare,
Her's are hyper-absent,
The things so glaringly not there,
You see there's nightmares so much worse than those you pinch yourself to shake,

There's one that whispers in your ear

"But you are already awake"

Poem by e.r