Echoes in the Locker Room

They never saw me—not really. Only the outline I traced in the halls, A whisper of denim and shy glances, A ghost who smiled too politely. They passed notes like grenades, Laughed too loudly When the silence was breaking me. I wore their words like a second skin— Tight, blistering, But invisible to them. You asked if I was okay once— But your eyes flicked away Before the truth had a chance to crawl out. Still, That was kind, Compared to the others Who carved their stories into my name Without ever asking for mine. I screamed, But only inside, Where echoes get lost In the ribcage's corners. And when I disappeared, They asked, “Why didn’t she say something?” As if silence isn’t something we’re taught By the ones who pretend They’re listening.