There’s a certain kind of exhaustion that goes beyond just needing sleep. It’s the weight of the day pressing down on my shoulders, the quiet ache of carrying too much, thinking too much, feeling too much. And tonight, all I want is to rest—not just my body, but my heart, my mind, my soul. I don’t want to talk, don’t want to explain the thousand little things that wore me down today. I just want to melt into the warmth of your embrace, to feel the steady rise and fall of your breath against mine. I want the kind of quiet where nothing needs to be said, where presence alone is enough.
I feel it the moment you pull me close—the tension slipping away, the silent reassurance that I don’t have to be strong right now. That here, in this space between wakefulness and dreams, I am safe. I can close my eyes without fear, without worry. Because in this moment, I don’t have to carry anything alone.
Your arms around me are a promise, an unspoken vow that I am not alone in this world. That no matter how heavy life feels, there will always be a place for me to rest. A place where I don’t have to think about tomorrow, where I can just exist, wrapped in the kind of love that doesn’t demand, doesn’t rush—just stays. So I close my eyes, listening to the sound of your heartbeat, feeling the warmth of your presence wrap around me like a soft lullaby. I let go, finally allowing myself to drift into the quiet peace I’ve been longing for all day.
Because right now, I am sleepy, and I need you. And having you here is all I need.