Some injuries
do not announce themselves
with broken bones.

They arrive quietly.

Trust loosened
one boundary at a time.

The body learning
how easily permission
can be ignored.

Years later
the memory feels different.

Not as a moment.

As a realization.

The way your own skin
suddenly felt unfamiliar.

The way silence
was mistaken for consent
by someone who never bothered
to ask the question properly.

And the strange weight
of carrying that knowledge

while the person who crossed it
walked through the world

unchanged.