am I safe here? yes you are safe here

A fight, if you could call it that... I'd name it tension, but that's just me. How easy would it be to designate that as a ritual? I lay in bed, suspended by my frustration that I can't always say what my heart is crying out. Sometimes the words just don't come, and the will power to make them is on a smoke break. And so I lay. And you, despite the ego that could take over, lay restlessly beside me. Why.Why.Why? You're just looking for some resolution... a response, so as to ease the nagging in your brain that tells you that it may be your fault. You want me to reassure you that it's not you, that it's {insert problem here}... but I'm voiceless and you're left to deal with the ongoing internal dialogue that is reminding you that it's your job to solve the puzzle. A puzzle. That's a fairly accurate representation of my being - except that I've put me together on a coffee table, and the kids keep knocking into it and pieces keep getting lost underneath the couch. We lay there, rolling back and forth between my stubborn disposition and your insistence that my silence is never a good sign.... and it could have consumed me, consumed us both. I breathe deep, and I hear you breathing with me, feel your chest rise and fall... and it floats away, and I turn into your arms. Your chest is warm, and your arms are wrapped around me tightly. Nothing is more calming that your hands moving up and down my back. Head on chest, legs entangled - your arms are the safest place I've found. In those moments, none of it matters and it's all just noise underneath us as we float up into the clouds x