My eyes are tired of seeing the sun.

I'm blinded by the glorious light.

I cannot bear to look around,

for even when I cannot see what

is right in front of my face,

I can see more in the light of day

than in the dark of night.


I am tired

of seeing all the shadows in the

morning, or the feeling the darkness

in the mourning.


I am tired

of all of the fractures of light streaming

in thought the window pane,

burning my retinas and causing me pain.


The light hurts so much more than the dark.


I am tired

of falling asleep when she wakes up,

of wishing that I didn't see a ghost in his face,

of missing the comforting blackness of

my youth, when I could hide

from the crowds in the dark

bathroom stalls, where I couldn't even

see my memories with my eyes open.


I am tired

of missing the moonlight, for it is the only

light that doesn't burn my core,

of missing the starlight,

cause I sure do miss talking to God,

of sunrise, and sunset,

for colours hurt less than

white light,

and black was never really

my favourite colour.


It used to be green.

And then it was purple.

And then it was blue.

And then it was you,

even if your smile used to hurt my eyes.