Content

There is a warm contentment rising in my chest, and I
welcome it.
It is strange and altogether unfamiliar but I
welcome it.
The sweet scent of flowers, released from
slowly melting candle wax that
sits in a jar on my dresser and
tells me a story of home, of
climbing up so many stairs to
write my name on the inside of
a sound I heard so many times
and make it mine.
Fairy lights dot the darkness and
each pinprick of light is a hole in
the thick blanket of insecurity and
anxiety that so often threatens to
overwhelm me.
I slide underneath the blankets that
are warm with the weight of
my body strewn across them haphazardly and
I bury my head in so many pillows and
maybe if I burrow down far enough,
I won’t have to come out.
The world is blurry so late at night;
I cannot see clearly what I know in the day.
I will wear my fear; it won’t wear me.
There is a warm contentment rising in my chest, and I
welcome it.

written January 28, 2019