I let myself believe
for a moment.

That was the mistake.

Every time I soften,
the world corrects me.
Not loudly.
Precisely.

A name surfaces.
A mouth finds another mouth.
A bed reclaims what was never mine.

History doesn’t warn.
It records.
And it has been very thorough with me.

Happiness is not cruel.
It’s careless.
It touches me just long enough
to remind me where I don’t belong.

The pattern never misses.
Right when I forget my place,
the other shoe falls
and my body remembers it for me.

I don’t scream anymore.
I don’t beg.
I just fold back into myself
like this is what I was trained for.

There is no surprise left.
Only confirmation.

I am not punished.
I am corrected.

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