girl standing near white car on road

The Night Owl

My darling,

rest your body.

I know that you are tired.

I see in your eyes gray

and weary lighthouses.

Your heart is cold

and tired and numb.

You may want to hide away

and rest your head down

while night comes

to rescue you from pain.

You may want

to rest your tired toes

in lumps between the grains

of cold wet sand,

fading dark to light in

tide-washed whirlwinds

painting colors on your cuticles

and calming thought tornadoes

as you keep in captive any

hushed desires you might

tightly lock inside

your brain cells โ€“

or you may be able

to squeeze them tight,

stand up straight,

and rid yourself

of every clothing layer,

letting go of

old protection

while the wind

breathes freedom

onto your neck.

You may want to throw your pain

into abandon with the laundry

fresh and cold on

midnight soil,

and it feels good.

It feels free.

Feels liberating.

You might want to scream

into the sky

to the one who broke your heart

and never cared.

You might want to curse whatever god

chooses to reign

for resigning you

to so much pain and grief.

Is it

a womanโ€™s curse

to feel so much hurt?

In the coolest moment

of the nighttime,

you may walk right on

into icy water,

let each atom

wash you clean again,

in ways only the deepest

vulnerability

could ever truly accomplish,

howling wildly at the moon

with your bare skin

at its back,

and feeling freedom ache

a painless smile

right into the crinkles

of your ears once more.

My, oh my,

my beautiful girl.

What a wild and womanly

phenomenon

you become

when you take off the reigns

and set yourself free

in the darkness of night

only to wake inside

a sunlit morning

and begin your life again.

About the author
Healing wounds with love and letters. Follow Laura on Instagram or read more articles from Laura on Thought Catalog.

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