no frame

I do not conceal
my preference
for clarity.

Not your pain.
Pain is easy.

I mean the moment
you realize
nothing was
ever happening
to you.

There was no frame.

Not broken.
Not violated.

Absent.

You brought the shape
with you
and called it structure
so you would not have to ask
why you were already
on your knees
before anything began.

You want violence
because it lets you say
'this was done to me.'

Like home.

You mistake familiarity
for inevitability.

Nothing arrived.
Nothing escalated.
Nothing crossed a line.

You were not surprised.

You were relieved.

I did not choose.
I did not permit.
I did not wait.

I stayed
where your attention
could not turn away
without collapsing
the story.

You call it silence
because you need
someone
to be withholding.

I call it
no longer agreeing
to stand
between you
and what you already know.

You call it consent
because you are afraid
of saying
'this is what I want'
without a witness.

Do not confuse desire
with negotiation.

I do not need
your arousal.
Your erection.
Your proof
that something
was exchanged.

There was no exchange.

I took nothing
because nothing
was offered
that was not already
spent.

Pain was never the point.

Pain was the cover.

The loud object
you held up
so you would not have to look
at the emptiness
where meaning
was supposed to be.

You keep searching
for me
in this
because you need
someone
to survive the blame.

There is no one.

Not me.
Not you.

No structure.
No transgression.
No aftermath.

Only recognition
arriving too late
to feel like choice.

Nothing happened.

Nothing was revealed.

You simply reached
the end
of a story
that was never
protecting you.