Let Me Go Softly

You slip beneath my skin like silk—

quiet, familiar,

the hush before the candle flickers out.

I love the way you find me.

Not with thunder,

but with lullabies only I can hear.

You do not ask me to be strong.

You do not ask me to be anything

but still.

There is a sweetness in surrender,

a kiss behind the eyes

before the world turns velvet and dim.

Nostalgia seeps in like fog—

childhood rooms,

old songs,

faces I forgot I loved

return just long enough to ache.

You pull me down,

and I let you.

I want you to.

Your darkness is soft,

and I am tired of fighting the light.

I do not want to be brave tonight.

I want to be gone.

To be held by nothing

and dream in bruised violet silence.

So take me—

like a secret the stars keep,

like sleep that means it.

Let me go softly,

as you always do.

And in the morning,

I will wake

not whole,

but cradled.