I'm afraid of the dark, yet I often stay up to watch the sun rise.
When I close my eyes, I see him.. his eyes. Not always, but often enough.
He's been dead for many years, but still will not leave me. Not as a ghost, but as a memory.
I'll not go into, never write down, what he did to me... and more often than not.
I've yet to forgive him, perhaps I never will. They say I should. I've tried. Doesn't work.
I try not to hate him so much. I'm working on that. Maybe someday.