My demons know
once the night falls
they can emerge from the shadows
at last
Their feet are silent
as they tread
softly
up the stairs

Every creak in the floors
is a warning of their presence,
yet they fall to dead ears
The rest of my family
tumbles through oblivion
while I lie awake
and look through the crack in the door,
which they perceive
as an invitation

They slip in
and I tell them to close the door
Their words are as hushed as night
when they say that they missed me,
though they haven’t been gone
for very long

I shift so that there is room for them
and they mumble their thanks
while they arrange themselves
They nestle against my body
until I am surrounded

The weight is suffocating
but somehow,
it brings comfort
Because the sensation
of being crushed by
my most intimate fears
is something I've grown accustomed to