Soft Damage

It’s a habit, I know.

This constant friction,

pressing my tongue against the tender spot.

But the waiting for that call,

that low hum in my chest,

made my jaw clench.

I bit down, hard.

A thin red line bloomed,

a faint taste of iron.

The tissue raw now,

felt beneath the tip of my tongue,

a small, pulsing reminder

of the silence I couldn't break.