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Fragile
By Steph
The brush of his fingers- moved me.
He was already out of his head from the blood by then.
His words were dark, frightening. But still his touch had been
gentle.
I'm sure I looked more likely to snap than to hold up under the pressure.
Skinny, fragile, feminine. It had taken so much time, so much
courage- and
here I was, out of the room upstairs. Only to be endangered.
But I'm made of
sterner stuff than I appear. I held up, and I survived the encounter.
He's been forgiven.
In the closet, a sundress (strap) condemned to darkness.