Still Embedded

I didn’t see the blast-- just felt it after, in the hush of your retreat. No scars to stitch, just words lodged in soft tissue. They ache when it rains. You said, "It's not like I hit you,” but silence detonates too. It tears in quiet, spreads slow as bruising thoughts. Now I walk crooked, smile with hesitation, and check every room for the pieces I’ve left behind.