Amanda Sanchez

Alexandra Smith, Phoenix writer

What’s there to fear within a dark room?

Whether the lights are on or off,

When you feel alone – that is what you truly are.

It is when I grow used to this abyss;

More sensitivity is built up towards the light,

That I begin to worry.

It isn’t the dark I fear,


What happens when something is left in the dusk for too long?

It begins to harden its shell,

Adapting to the cold,

Becoming more distant from anything that the light ever provided.

If I could just take your hand, it’ll rid me of this darkness.

And yet, I can’t.

I am no longer frightened by the shadows-

They don’t exist with the absence of light.

No, no-

It’s not the dark I fear.

What if-

When the lights turn on,

There is an unrecognizable face staring back at me in the mirror?

What if the dark has stolen all that the light ever provided…

When I take your hand and it saves me,

Will it hurt you?


I fear that it’s too late for redemption,

For what has happened – has happened.

Your words are healing but they turn back no hours, they undo no pains.

The traces of my smile appear blurred in my memories,

As if all that I suppressed,

All that I pushed away dulled the good as well.

The darkness only helps to conceal this utter and undeniable truth.


I don’t fear the dark.

I fear the brown eyes that meet my own as I stare into the reflecting glass,

They aren’t mine.

Anymore, at least.

You see,

In the darkness I am free to float adrift,

My fears left unable and hidden.


The moment I began to fear the light,

It was no longer the dark that scared me.

Alexandra Smith