Digits displayed on the face of the clock like a torch in the dark
quilt providing little shelter
the arm cradling, keeping me still
I have to face the terror

Rather than take a stand
I press my face further into a shoulder
my tears bleed into his shirt
and I break the silence

There is the whisper of the comforter
and there are hands on my face
he brushes my hair back and soothes my burning cheeks
I say I'm not alright

He disappears with the skill of a ghost
retuning with the cure
he settles down beside me and I hear the pop of the cap
I'm starting to shake

"You need your medicine tonight."

There is the rattle before he reaches out
and I open my hand in return
as he presses into my palm
my little blue pill