black-bunny

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Sheild

I can't wait to get back to my room, where it's warm, dark and moist. Like a cave, like the womb.

Where are my defences? Where are my wings to close over me? Why did I let myself get exposed?

I was coaxed out, surely. Gently, soothingly, murmurs of encouragement. Now I spend almost all my time feeling over exposed, again. Every move suspect.

And if I throw on the armour now? Slam that door and I'll catch his fingers.

How do I undo this?

2:35 a.m. - 2006-11-08

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