You Are Your Own Worst Cock-blocker

The fog has cleared
and from behind his curtains, the sunlight.
Shining bright upon her face
lighting up her bedroom,
greeting her, as he would any other person,
looking her square in the eye,
and blinding her.

Squinting (and scared of fully opening her eyes)
she lightly hides behind the shadow of her blanket,
her protective outer skin,
afraid to meet a new day again,
afraid of a different kind of day instead.

Simply being afraid she'd be blinded by its brilliance,
she cautiously peeks from inside her cotton cave,
so used to seeing the smoke screen,
so used to seeing the dark greys
her eyes scared to readjust to the new light,
her limelight,
because all she ever saw were the dim nights
the fog would leave behind for her to save.

But today, unlike most days,
though scared of what lied ahead of her in broad daylight,
she finally saw the day,
previously hidden by fog,
when before it all looked like dark nights.
The curtains she had once used to protect her from the cold winds
and the deceiving fogs
were the very curtains,
she discovered,
that had kept the sun out all along.