Between Bruises and Blooms

They say cats choose who they trust.

Today,

Myst chose me.

She doesn’t know what I’ve survived.

She doesn’t know the names that broke me or the nights I thought would never end.

She only knows

my bed is warm,

my hands are gentle,

and when she closes her eyes,

nothing bad happens.

So she sleeps.

Without fear.

Without doubt.

As if the world has finally become soft enough to rest in.

Maybe healing isn’t always learning to trust again.

Maybe sometimes

it’s becoming someone worthy of trust.

A tiny heartbeat curled beneath my blanket

reminded me today

that home isn’t always a place.

Sometimes…

it’s a person.

Sometimes…

it’s the quiet promise

“I’ll keep you safe.”

🐾🤍