intimacy after ipv

— part one —

to the man who assaulted me —

it’s been ten years.
i’ve been working steadily, deliberately,
with the quiet discipline of
all the kings horses and all the kings men

trying, just trying, to put humpty together again.

i can feel how close i am.
close enough that the last piece feels
less heavy than it is fragile.

this isn’t about rage.
or grief.
or even fear.

it’s about what happens next.

because these days
a man can show me nothing but green flags.
he can be kind.
attentive.
gentle with my nervous system.
he can signal safety without spectacle,
generosity without performance.

and still —
the moment my heart opens
even a fraction —
the walls rise, automatic, efficient, well-trained.

not because i don’t want love.
but because my body remembers
what my mind has just tried to forget.