Kipping at hers

I felt safe, I suppose,
bundled like a blue-haired cat,
which is never quite blue,
always more Eeyore grey,
or patio grey,
or fog on a West wind grey -
felt, whole-heartedly, held
in the dim light,
duvet and pillow and blind error and curves,
all calm and wanted and enough.
That's what it does for me,
being with friends, judgement free,
letting music curl off the walls,
letting thunder pave a way to sleep,
ears given a saturation of sound before relief,
it's a lulling without a drop, isn't it?
A complete sense of security
that nothing is coming,
no one means me any harm,
no one's going to shift, jump ship,
change me in anyway,
not here, not with us,
so I lay in all my snoring,
insomnia and cold tea,
book and charger,
make up unremoved
and let the night peel back,
fade until it's drifting
back towards the light.