The bruise nobody saw was hidden in a wedding vow,
because some people still mistake "I do" for "I allow."
A gold band circled her finger, not her freedom,
yet they called his hunger love and her silence a kingdom.
She learned how ceilings memorize tears better than people do,
how a mattress can become a witness with nothing it can do.
Morning arrived like it always does, pretending nothing happened,
while she folded her pain between dishes and napkins.
Love does not arrive with a lockpick in its hand,
nor does marriage turn a body into conquered land.
A wife is not a door that stays forever open
even forever needs permission before it is spoken.