You read the words “Rest now. I’ve got you.”
the silence of those syllables covering
every connected cell of your skin like the sun
on your face as you round the corner of concrete
that shades it like winter, like the way hot chocolate coats
your tastebuds with sugar and your throat with a smile

at the same time. You want to get up, not because of the dopamine;
the blanket of those words might not be real, its threads
not wound to warm, they might not be weak but they may be
laid there by one who does not love. You want to get up
because You are afraid it might.

Thank you for reading.

Head over to my [Substack] where I share a more immersive experience. This poem’s typed draft is there so you can see how much it has changed since I first wrote it. I would love to hear your thoughts and impressions on how it was edited.