A soft light trickles in from the sun’s starting trajectory, through my slotted blinds, onto my pillowcase. It’s soft light and warmth slowly strokes my face, beckoning me to wake and start again. “I love you, come play with me.” I keep my eyes closed.

In what felt like only a moment, the light now wraps my entire body in it’s warm embrace and whispers in my ear that outside of my marshmallow cocoon there is lightning, and beautiful fire; that I need to live. “Come see what beauty I’ve created for you today.”

The sun loves me, but I can’t appease him. The sun yearns for me, but I cannot join him. I can’t because my eyes are still closed, and I am revelling in my memories. I cannot join him because I am still with you, my moon-faced sweetness.

You are my darkness. The darkness that falls like the quiet blanket of snow, muting sound, a comforting isolation. I’ve lived in you for years now, you are my home: my love, my life, my one. I can tell of every freckle, every wrinkle, every blue fibre in your iris; I can tell even though I cannot see in your embrace. I don’t need to, and I put out my eyes.

The sun reaches for me, yet I pull away to cover every inch of me to remain with you just a bit more. “Just one more minute.”

Your smooth and cold embrace like brushed iron, keeps me safe against the burning touch of light, a touch that scorns and abuses me, that insults and withers me like broken flowers on the floor. The perfume is overwhelming. You protect me, you guide me, you advise me. You believe me.

The aggressive sun now disintegrates the blinds and forces it’s way into my bedroom demanding to be acknowledged. He knocks on walls, rips sheets from my bed and pulls me roughly to my feet. “LIVE.”

He shines so brightly that even without eyes I can see. I can see the desire, the fire radiating from his sex and it hurts me. It hurts me, but I let him. I let him show me the whispy, white brush strokes painted across an endless expanse of canary blue. I let him show me the waves crashing onto the shore, over and over and over again depositing twinkling beads of glass. I let him show me the rolling hills that turn translucent as they run away and disappear into the sky.

I start to remember.

I ask the sun to show me the bluest blue on deep waters contrasting mountain giants covered in white caps. I ask him to sit with me in the willow grass that tickles my legs and makes me laugh uncontrollably until we are rolling on the ground in each others embrace. I ask him to lay down next to me and kiss my neck while I concoct epic dramas for the creatures living in the clouds.

The soft glow that flushes over my cheeks ignites the tinder that lives within my soul and my skin sparkles with heat. The flames spread from my sex up to my chest and down my arms and legs into my fingers. My skin shines, it shines and shines and it blisters and burns. I break the hard ash from my wrists and I draw his eyes.

I grab his hand and drag him to red cliffs high above jagged rocks begging to be introduced. I make him chase me while I ride on tormented waves, as tall as giants, trampling the shores as they beg to breathe. I set the dry meadow grass ablaze and dance with war gods to the crackling music. I cry endlessly for everyone and watch the raging water strip away imperfections. I tell him fervently how much I love him, how much I need him, how I can’t live without him. I am alive.

The sun gives me one last, long, reproachful look and turns away. He claims that my light is brighter, hotter, more beautiful than his own, and he resents me for it. The sun no longer loves me; he lies about it and leaves.

The world flips over, revealing a large hole which opens up the ground, swallowing everything in it’s proximity. I watch trees that touch the sky, instead, fall over and be incinerated by the earth’s core. I watch animals sprint away only to see the ground sprint faster. I watch a living, vibrant jungle become a dark, black hole; dead to the world. I leave.

I wander over endless dunes kicking small plants and curse the fact that even though he’s gone he still wraps me in his light.

I reach sea shores of crystal water where I scrub the dark, black ash from my skin. I scrub and I scrub until my skin is raw and violet blood flows from my hands.

I pass over cliffs built by giants and acquaint myself (from a distance) with the jagged rocks begging to meet me. “hello.”

I walk and I walk until the light starts to  fade, until the sky is burning with deep oranges and reds turning darker and darker like melting metal. I walk until I can no longer feel warmth, and can no longer see.

I start to remember.

I look to the stars and quietly ask where the blankets of snow lie heavy in silence. They laugh amongst themselves and point me the way, far far from their doors. He flashes behind my eyes and I remember him differently: touch becomes insult, understanding becomes ridicule, a kiss becomes rage, love becomes loathing. I walk on.

I arrive, bleeding and broken at my bedroom door. I knock once, softly; you open and take me into your smooth, cold, brushed-iron arms and I cry deep tears into your chest. No words, no judgement, no feeling, no light; just cold, empty oblivion to lose yourself in.

You lay me down next to you in the marshmallow nest, and I find comfort in the isolation. Just you and me and nobody. I rest my eyes and my breathing becomes longer, slower, my muscles unclench. I dream, and I prepare for tomorrow.