Belief in a dark bulb

Belief in a dark bulb

I can not sleep.

The darkness outside is not dark at all; it's a photocopied watered
down version of grey. I
need a dark bulb to turn on. My lover lying next to me is cold. I turn
around to face her,
then she's gone. billowing in her dressing gown she glides out of the
room. I assume for
the bathroom. She looks back at me. . . . . . .
Then she's gone.

Caressing the warm space left behind I long for her return and remember
an occasion
from some time ago.

I was home from work and the door bidding entrance to my home was
peeling, the
neglected doorstep, that was once scrubbed weekly provides a worn
opening to the warm
hallway in front. I entered and closed the door quietly behind, knowing
she would be
asleep upstairs. A sound of movement upstairs made me switch on my dark
bulb, and
instead of going upstairs to greet my lover, I retreat to my two seated
settee and turn on
the television to compliment the dark bulb that was currently shining
black. White noise
drowned out the giggles descending downstairs, it drowned out the door
and subsequent
return of a single footstep back to the bedroom. I fell asleep on the
sofa, the dark-light
doing its job.
She woke me on the sofa with a smile from Disney at 8am. She chided me
for not
waking her on my return but I smiled back and turned up the wattage on
my dark bulb.
She kissed me soundly and went to work. I returned to sleep on the
sofa

I hear her now in the bathroom, the tap is running and I can hear
something murmuring
underneath. Coughing into my pillow, I curse my supertar cigarettes on
the side
downstairs, I feel hypnotised by the lunar light, the summer moon when
it hides does it so
slow
I believe in a dark bulb

I can hear the tap running but footsteps too. The tap stops but the
feet continue I can
feel a weight on the back of my neck and body pressing down hard?? the
tap continues
and the fire in my lungs make me curse the supertar cigarettes on the
side downstairs?or
am I missing the point? Fighting the weight on my upper body, I cannot
help but drift
into another dark bulb memory. A memory, this time of obsession and
loss, I feel a
wrenching of the stomach, as this restaurant dim with candles, holds no
joy for me.
A friend has filled in the gaps and blown my dark bulb
The candles flicker on the table, and my tapas although hot have gone
cold. The wine
although cold has gone warm. And my female friend grabs my hand and
tells me how she
fears for me and tells of a woman close that means me harm?? The dark
light won't be
rekindled and I leave a bundle of notes. Lurching towards the door, my
lungs felt like
they were on fire then or did they?

The dark bulb goes off forever and a blinding light floods in.