Unseen Armor

I used to think protection meant a wall

brick, barbed wire, a mean face,

something heavy enough

to make people back up.

﹁﹂

But I’ve been wearing something quieter lately,

like silk under my clothes,

soft against my skin

and still… impossible to grab.

﹁﹂

My boundaries don’t clang.

They don’t announce themselves.

They sound like,

“No, I am not available for that.”

﹁﹂

Like turning my phone over

When the guilt texts arrive

all dressed up as concern.

﹁﹂

Like not explaining my “no”

until it becomes a yes.

I learned that the hard way,

the long way,

the “why are you crying in the car?” way.

﹁﹂

Sometimes I still want to be liked so bad

I can taste it

metallic, stupid, familiar.

But I breathe through it.

﹁﹂

I watch my own hands

Stop reaching for people

who only love me

When I’m easy to bend.

﹁﹂

This armor doesn’t shine.

It doesn’t scare anybody.

It just holds.

﹁﹂

And that’s the miracle, I guess

staying soft

without staying open

to everything that cuts.