Upstairs At Night

The delicate hum of industrial glow,

stemming from the source below,

that drips the light that rises up,

that shines the handle of my cup,

empty now to my dismay,

a vessel drained, here I lay.

Downstairs, a realm I dare not tread,

mysteries await, things unsaid.

The horror that dwells, my midnight fear,

when day to night things become unclear,

and though the time will pass for certain,

I have yet to see sun through my curtain.

but morning will come, I know this is true,

for now, in this moment, at least I have you.