I find more frequently as I grow, an understanding of darkness festers within me.

She used to be a beautiful woman, teasing and mischievous, an aunt to my familiar mother; the crystal dawn in early morning.

Youth is ever so kind.

I loved the darkness, she cradled me, I ran to her in diapers despite the protests of my father— the dusk.

I never knew I was meant to fear her, not until her disease began to spread.

Not until it was far too late did I discover her gentle cradling hands were teeth in the maw of the unknown.

When I hugged her, I hugged the angling lure which comforted as it drew me deeper into the place wherein she held the power to remove all light from me and make me hers.

All she needed was to close her jaws

And swallow.

Why did she spit me out?