I have spent so long
arranging my edges
into something acceptable
folding the louder parts inward
like paper pressed
too many times
to remember its shape

I learned to smile in ways
that don’t disturb the air
careful
measured
quiet
as if joy itself
might be too much
for rooms that prefer
their silence intact

I became fluent in shrinking
in softening the places
I once spoke from
turning volume into hesitation
and truth into something
easier to swallow

yet something inside me held on
through every quieting attempt
resisting the pull of silence
that sought to erase me
in those depths
I found my flame
and it refused to be dimmed