We know the rules. From a young age, we’re told to be aware of our surroundings. Don’t create attention to yourself. Watch what you wearing. Don’t be too loud. Don’t drink too much. Be polite. Bite your tonuge. Hold your tongue. Bite your tongue. Hold your tongue.

And never walk home alone.

Has my body ever really been mine?

Pull hair.

Smack ass.

Grip arm.

Touch thigh.

Whispers.

“Shh”

Bite your tongue. Hold your tongue. Bite your tongue. Hold your tongue.

And don’t walk home alone.

But has anyone told them that? Has anyone told them to watch their surroundings? Don’t create attention to themself? Watch what their wearing? Don’t be too loud? Don’t drink too much? Be polite? Bite your tongue? Hold your tongue?

As I watched him stumble ahead of me. I can assume no one talked to him about the rules.

Maybe they’re not set for him.

I walked close, the smell of cigarettes and cheap booze coming from him. He jeans are tight. Has anyone told him to watch what he wears? Or not to drink so much?

I stand behind him. Unnoticed. **The knife held careful by my side.** He’s laughing to himself, stumbling to the left.

He has no keys in his hand. No worry. Just the slient night and the freedom to walk with no care.

He does’t know the rules.

Him smiling, enjoying the night air.

And me?

I told my tongue.

Because it clear to me, as I watch him.

No one has told him to not to walk home alone.