Can you really pretend
when the trees whisper
the wind chills
and the world outside your door
disappears behind a veil of oblivion
that you do not shiver?
Do you deny
that when your mind fills the shadows
with the predators from your deepest imagination
and makes every sound a footstep
that you look over your shoulder?
Or that you don’t – for fear you might be right?
Do you not feel
your muscles contract
and the tension ratchet
until you are little more
than a coiled spring of pure terror?
Did you ever really believe
that you stopped being afraid of the dark?
And do you really think
that light-bulbs will save you?