Between Bruises and Blooms

4:00 a.m. Some nights sleep doesn’t come. Tonight, this did.

I miss
the heavy kind of quiet.

The kind that settled
after a bowl,
when my body finally unclenched
and my face felt warm,
like gravity had loosened its grip
for just a little while.

For a few precious hours,
every muscle surrendered.

My thoughts stopped sprinting.

The ache became a whisper.

I remember that feeling
more than I remember the smoke.

Not because I want to disappear.

Because I remember
what it was like
to exist
without carrying the full weight
of myself.

Some days,
I still reach for that memory.

Not with a lighter.

Just with longing.

Wondering
what it feels like
to have my shoulders forget
they’ve been bracing for years.

Maybe that’s the hardest part.

Not missing the high.

Missing the relief.

Missing the version of me
who, for a little while,
could simply
be.