The Hidden Bruise

I did not notice the bruise at first.

It lived under my skin

like a secret with good manners.

﹁﹂

Love, I thought, was supposed to be tender,

So I renamed the ache

called it “growing pains,”

called it “communication,”

called it “my fault for being sensitive.”

﹁﹂

You never hit me.

You were too smart for that.

You just pressed on places

No one could see

a joke at my expense,

a long silence used like a leash,

a compliment with a hook in it.

﹁﹂

And I kept smiling.

I got really good at smiling.

It became a reflex,

like blinking in bright light.

﹁﹂

Then one day my friend hugged me

and I flinched, hard,

Like my body finally filed the report.

﹁﹂

In the bathroom mirror

I lifted my sleeve

And there it was

not purple, not obvious,

just a dull shadow

spreading out, quietly,

saying: This has been happening.

﹁﹂

That’s the thing about hidden bruises

They don’t scream at first.

They whisper.

And then, suddenly,

they’re loud enough

to change the way you walk.