The Small Theft Unspoken

I slipped it, slick and easy,

wrapped in shiny foil and forgotten

before the bell could ring.

The corner store smelled like mildew,

and something sweet, almost sour.

A crumpled wrapper pressed between books,

silent proof of a small rebellion

kept safe in dusty drawers.

Never caught, never told,

a secret folded thin,

a candy bar vanished, and still—

I carry the weight of that quiet crime,

sticky and sweet beneath my skin.