This place is where I am safe.

Sprung fast from a form too scared to hold me, I careen to the rafters, fear billowing behind.

Away.

Away from whatever I can’t stand or name. Another pill to swallow, another mirror held, to reflect an image I don’t recognise and can’t quite grasp, and yet holds me in her grip like death.

Because I am lucky he comes to find me. Hand outstretched, palm up, as if to encourage a wild bird to perch.

Fixed as I am, my eye gimleted with nervous strength He softens and soothes.

There, it’s OK.

There, just breathe.

There, you are safe.

And his there, becomes my safe there.

I breathe.

eye posted on Fetlife February 2014

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