This Minor Cord

I ran a ragged hand across my face
rarely as gentle with myself as with others
("I know," I told my counselor, a tired and timid smile inching across my face.
"I cannot fully give the love to others which I'm unwilling to accept myself".
Her hands thrown in the air in victory. 
"It's the constant learning of what I already know," was my final confession of the day, 
her head nodding as she said kindly, "Yes child, yes.")

My embarrassing confession of today is this:
sometimes, such as in the quiet moments before sleep, I turn my head
kiss my bare shoulder
A wordless reminder of 'it's okay', or 'you're enough' or simply
'goodnight beautiful'
for even though I get too much in my own head
stumbling over these basic facts and being unbelieving
(again and over again)
an uncomplicated kiss
quick or tender
blooms in my heart the things I can barely say aloud
whether to the mirror or to another soul
this tiny thing, this minor cord
can sing like the single note of a violin
carry me a little closer to believing
in being enough

So goodnight my someone
and goodnight myself
a kiss for the giving
and for the receiving
for the reminding
and the believing
The hand across my face is more tender
more accepting, and forgiving
Whether or not we know how it will be
we look into each night
and like a promise
call it good