how is it
that a perfectly confident
twenty-four year old
woman
can have one day
she struggles to get through
and goes to her safe place
to collapse
and remind herself
to breathe
and ends up
hosting a party
between her pillows
and her tears
for a couple of hours
she becomes that eleven year old
girl
laying in bed in the dark
crying herself to sleep
because her seventh grade boyfriend
found something better
and the world looks
totally bleak
again
and the only saving grace
is her mother
who sits quietly
stroking her daughter's hair
and reminding her
there's so much of the world
she's yet to experience
but there's no one
sitting on the edge of the bed tonight
it's a party of one
host and guest of honor the same
the heaviness envelops her
but the words are still present
they hang in the air
and work their magic
just like they did
thirteen years ago
they sprinkle
painfully hopeful fairy dust
on a grown little girl
who wants to be loved
she closes her eyes
and breathes out one quiet breath
and lets the draft of cold air
coming through the window
infuse the uncertainty
with dreams
and sleep