The Way the Night Knows You
The night doesn’t ask where you’ve been.
It doesn’t want a report.
It doesn’t tally your failures
or wait for your light to come on.
The night knows.
It saw you when you couldn’t speak
but still opened your mouth and tried.
It held your secrets like wet leaves,
pressing them into the earth for safekeeping.
There’s a softness here.
In the way the stars don’t ask to be named.
In the way the wind doesn't flinch when you cry.
In the way the moon,
that eternal witness,
just glows—even when it’s barely there.
You don’t have to be bright tonight.
You don’t have to be anything.
The night already loves you.
Just as you are.
Unmade.
Unmasked.
Unashamed.
It’s not waiting for you to shine.
It’s just waiting for you to rest.
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