Fear strikes me down. Sometimes. Makes my insides turn and fade like the edges of paper in fire. To sit in corners. Back firmly against the seam. For as long until it's gone. I forget what it feels like to kiss. My tongue caught between my teeth behind closed dry lips. Eyes wide. Open. Ready to run. Sometimes, I'm confused by the simplest of tasks. Whether or not to open a bottle of wine. For one glass. For myself. Even though it was purchased for this purpose. To be enjoyed. Drunk. It wasn't expensive. Special. I'll save it for another time. When anyone else but me wants a glass. This is the way I wait. Worry over things that don't deserve the time out of bed after a nightmare in the early morning when night is still outside the window. It's the one about the tornado. In this same darkness he said as if he were stating the obvious, you're just as important as everyone else.