Silly Me

some mornings, my inner child whispers:
you are a paper boat,
folded with wonder, floating in wild rain.
hold me close,
even when storms pull at your own edges.

and I nod,
as I wrap her in my cardigan of thoughts,
promise her bedtime stories
even when sleep tiptoes away.
I still hum lullabies
to my own bruised echoes.

I cry when I see a bird with a limp wing
I think of how it still flies, still tries.
I want to hold everyone,
but barely have arms to hold myself.
silly me.

I forget my own corners
just to make space for others.
but my heart reminds me
you’re irreplaceable.

I tuck fears under my pillow at night.
they whisper in thunder
and rustle like wind inside my chest.
still, i kiss them gently,
like wild things learning to trust.

grief visits like a stray cat
uninvited, familiar,
curling up beside joy without asking.
and i feed it silence
and a little bit of light.

on the aches of my heart,
drowning into the world,
my mind handles this silliness
like a weapon.

sometimes, i feel like mist
soft, unseen, passing quietly
through crowded places.
but isn’t that a kind of magic too?

I collect compliments like fallen petals
press them between pages of books
i never finish.
they’re my bookmarks on hard days.

I say sorry even when it rains.
I thank people
for things they don’t notice doing.

I speak to the moon in hushed thoughts,
but when the world forgets kindness,
i want to shout into the ground,
“i still care! i still care!”
like that matters.
silly me.

I carry love
like it’s the last soft thing
in this loud place.
even when it aches,
even when i’m tired.

and maybe that makes me fragile
but maybe
that also makes me free.