Let Her Go - Passenger

You only need the light when it's burning low, it seems. While the flickering dimness is dying, and your eyes are frantically flicking across the room desperately trying to memorize everything. And your head hurts from the strain. Your eyes burn with the effort you didn't even realize you were putting in.

The darkness is growing.

Growing into the room around you, winning control of the space, edging out the fading light. And some ancient, primal part of you feels the fear that all men fear in the darkness. You know there's nothing there, you know there's nothing to fear. But that prehistoric section of your psyche will not relent.

The darkness is growing, and the light is almost gone.

And suddenly there is no more light. Your eyes strain against the blackness, your heart pounds, your body is about to tense.

And you feel her hand slide in to yours. It squeezes, and you feel her breath on your shoulder. You are not alone in the dark,

And as sleep takes you, you realize that like the light before it in the morning you will miss the fading dark.