Between Bruises & Blooms

The bruise
was the easiest part.

Purple
became blue.

Blue
became green.

Green
became yellow.

Eventually,
my skin remembered
its own color.

People think
that's what healing looks like.

They don't see
the places
that never changed color at all—

the instinct
to flinch,

the apology
waiting on my tongue,

the habit
of making myself
smaller.

Bruises fade.

The body
is generous that way.

The harder work
is convincing your heart

that it no longer
has to brace
for hands
that were supposed
to be safe.