I Am Not What You See

By P.J. Hughes

I am the pause between sounds
that no one else notices.

I am the chair facing the door.
The back never turned,
the exits always mapped.

I am the quiet in the middle of a crowded room,
not because I’m at peace
but because I’ve disappeared.

I am the scream caught behind the teeth.
The dream that ends before the rescue.

I am trained reflex and forced stillness.
I am the breath held for no reason
except memory.

I am what happened
and what was never talked about after.

I am the answer to
“What’s wrong?”
that never gets said.

I am not your broken thing,
your story to wrap in comfort.
I am not made for your redemption.

I am tired.
But still moving.

I am not better.
But I’m still here.

I am not done.
And I don’t need to be fixed
to be worth listening to.

****

Navy veteran, father of twin teenage boys, cybersecurity student, and self-published novelist, Patrick J. Hughes writes where military remembrance, psychic stress, and the uncomfortable silence between trauma and expression collide. His fiction follows the long aftershocks of life at sea and the merciless cutting edge of what goes unspoken.