Epistles for my thorned metaphors

the darkness of night

i used to fear the dark
i hate when night comes
i hate when my parents
shut the door closed
i hate when the sunset
is slowly disappearing

but, then, you came
you open the curtains
of my room and shove
away the monsters
in my room.

and you whispered,
“do not be afraid of the dark.
when you are shivering,
come see the stars and
it will give you comforts.
come see the moon,
and i will embrace you.”