When darkness comes, I turn to her. At night, when it gets too hard to keep my eyes open, she winds sure arms around me and pulls me close; then I pull myself closer. She has already gotten up to turn out the light, to blow out the blue candle that tends to burn serenely in the background, to find her way back to bed without stumbling in the space suddenly void of light. For me, she would turn the lamp on, knowing that if I made the same journey in the dark, it would end up in a stubbed toe and the sweet, easy peels of her laughter. Minutes ago, we stood in the brilliant light of the bathroom brushing our teeth, where she would sneak looks at my bare legs and I would unabashedly stare into the reflection of her soft, brown eyes, marvelling again at the lashes so long they brush the freckled expanse of her cheekbones while she gazed downwards. I know she would see my toes curled, cringing away from the freezing floor, and she would move closer to wrap an arm around my waist, to lend me some of the beautiful warmth she always seems to radiate. I have taken to spending far longer than two minutes to brush my teeth.

But that was minutes ago, before my eyes stung from the absence of the light. It used to be that I harboured a fear, maybe not quite of the dark, but of the things that could creep up on me within it. It used to be that when I slept, there was a light on and noise to pervade the incessant nothingness that came with the dark of the night; something to listen to so that I could avoid listening to me.

But that was before.

Now, I am blessed with the noise of her breathing, always loud enough for me to hear, to give me a steady rhythm to fall asleep to. Now, I can fit myself to the contours of her body and allow it to keep me safe, keep me warm, to just keep me. I can feel the miracle that is her heartbeat, feel the jump in my own when she shifts slightly to press a kiss to the top of my head. Sometimes we talk out into the darkness, and I am gifted the feeling of her body rocking slightly as she chuckles at something endearingly idiotic that I've said, and I allow the image of her smile to fill up my mind. There is no room for darkness or fear or pain; there is just contentment and warmth and love. She holds me close to her and the darkness never comes.