Between Bruises and Blooms

At four in the morning,

you declared war.

You hunted my fingers, ambushed my wrists, bit every inch of me small enough to fit inside your mouth.

You climbed into my hair like it had always been your bed.

You kneaded my blanket, searched every fold, and suckled the fabric until the world felt soft enough to trust.

So I built you a little nest—

just a pocket of fleece folded around your tiny body.

You ignored it, claimed my chest instead, and purred like an engine finally finding its rhythm.

Now your tail hangs across the blanket, your heartbeat rests against mine,

and somewhere between the tiny teeth and the sleepy eyes,

between the midnight chaos and the quiet that followed,

I realized

you weren’t trying to keep me awake.

You were only trying

to find home.

Tonight,

home just happened

to be me. ❤️