Between Bruises & Blooms

You never needed
to touch me
to make my body
brace for impact.

Sometimes
all it took
was your face
inches from mine,

your voice
so loud
it stopped sounding
like language.

Just noise.

Rage
with teeth.

I learned
how still
a person can become
when moving
might make things worse.

I learned
not to look away
too quickly.

Not to look back
too boldly.

I learned
there was apparently
a correct way
to breathe
while someone screamed
into your face.

Too deep
and you were dramatic.

Too shaky
and you were manipulating him.

Too calm
and somehow
that made him angrier.

So I became
very good
at disappearing
without leaving the room.

You screamed
until your spit
landed on my skin,

until my ears rang,

until the walls
felt closer
than they were.

And afterward
you could walk away
like nothing happened.

But my body
never believed
nothing happened.

It remembered
your face
inches from mine

long after
you were gone.