The most comfortable and easiest relationship
I have ever had is with my own self-loathing.
It’s almost natural at this point to expect failures.
The whispered criticisms rise in my mind,
A crescendo of hatred and mutiny,
Quieted only by the sound of my door opening.
Soft footsteps shuffle across the carpet and ***** clothes
Stepping over unfinished homework
And an unraveling purple blanket made of yarn.
The din in my mind reminding me of faults,
Failures, stupid conversations I have had,
And every insecurity my subconscious can think of,
Stops completely as I feel the bed dip beneath your weight.
I wait, as still as I can be, for the feel of your hand on my hair,
Brushing it back, out of my eyes with a smile.