The body knows before I do

I didn't see him

I didn't hear his voice

But the street signs knew.

The cracked pavement whispered and I listened as my body responded.

Like he was right behind me.

I pulled into the parking lot, and lost all belief that I was safe.

It started right from my toes to my forgiving trembling legs.

My breath hitched and disappeared somewhere between my ribs.

The inhale was exhausting, non giving, this isn't air this is danger.

At least that's what my body is telling me.

No danger in sight just a nervous system that doesn't feel right.

But it remembers

it remembers the proximity..

it remembers the what if..

it remembers escape routes...

My hands shook as I reached for my door handle and got out the car.

The noise grew ten fold growing louder and faster as if it too knew what my mind tried to bury.

I scanned the parking lot, like I scan for exits.

He wasn't there not I could see. But he was everywhere inside me

Trauma doesn't need a face to show up.

Sometimes it rides shotgun while I drive, waits in places he used to haunt.

My body keeps score, in heartbeats

in the stiffness of my spine.

In the refusal of my knees to hold me steady when I feel to much.

The body keeps score.