He found her, waiting and bruised, pushing his way so deeply inside her, he never thought he’d find his way out.
But he surprised them both, shoving her aside as quickly as he’d come.
Using, abusing, afraid his own inner darkness would disrupt his carefully structured nest.
Scared their pleasure would eat at his soul.
Too afraid to give room, or care, or thought, he left her as he found her;
waiting, willing and bruised,
now broken.
Shakily tending her wounds,
mystified if she had flown, or fallen.
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