SOMETHING I DIDN’T KNOW WAS MORE THAN A MYTH UNTIL I WAS IT

It’s hard to find happy here. They try
to make it otherwise, pretend hope is
a pink marker, that stickers of stars
are as good as the real thing. But
it’s no secret—

all we have are
tales whispered through
broken teeth; bruises that can
speak for us, but are disbelieved.

They pretend we’ll be ourselves again.
And we pretend to believe them. But
it’s no secret—

we don’t remember
if it was ever safe to look
up; if we were ever more than
reflexes and reactions; if we ever
had options beyond freeze or flinch.

They pretend we can be protected. And
we pretend to believe them. But
it’s no secret—

laws shield palms,
not the cheeks they leave
handprints on; laws talk charges
off the ledge, say, think of all the people
they’ll hurt if pressed; laws levy veiled threats.

They pretend we can be protected. And
we pretend we don’t need protection. And
everyone else pretends to believe us. But
it’s no secret—

it’s just easier to
call our pain another name
since nothing’s going to change.

Samantha Madway is working on a collection of interlinked poems and flash fiction. She loves her dogs, Charlie, Parker, and Davey, more than anything else in the universe. Though technophobic, she attempts to be brave by having an Instagram @sometimesnight. If the profile were a plant, it would’ve died long ago. Her writing has appeared in Sunspot Lit, Linden Ave, High Shelf, Sky Island Journal, Aurora, mutiny!, Clementine Unbound, SLAB, and elsewhere.