He wrote me
wondrous
charmed with
child-like innocence
and soft
with safety
But close the book,
creak of wood
and crawl
of thieving
fingers,
off with the
innocence
let it settle
on the floor,
as stony cold
as all that
softness has become.
He wrote me brave
proud in the way
ladies
should be,
unafraid
and lovely
But turn the
page
and all is fear
and fretful
dreams
soak skin
to awakeness
when footsteps
mark the hall,
and rattles
turn to the
dooming click
of entry.
He hears
every silent
scream.
He wrote me defiant
unreliant on
conformities.
social standing
was just
weakness
dressed prettily
But end the
phrase
and compliant
limbs
fall exhausted
from the fight
and tear-stained
cheeks sting
rosy red
against the pain.
