Therapy Bits

There are nights when the world feels too heavy,
when the storm in my chest refuses to quiet,
and every thought circles back
to the places I’m trying to escape.

I walk through the dark with trembling hands,
a heart that beats like a warning bell,
trying to name the ache without letting it own me,
trying to breathe through the rising tide.

But even in the thick of it,
something small keeps whispering —
that I am more than my hurting,
that I am allowed to stay.

So I gather the scattered pieces,
hold them gently,
and let the dawn find me again
before I am ready,
but never too late.