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It?s been a pretty average day as she unlocks the door
Her large black leather bag brushes lightly against her blue floral print dress that she bought in the sale
A soft rush of air flows past her as she pushes open the off-white door and closes it behind her
The bag slips off her shoulder and down her arm in one effortless motion, landing with a dull thud on the floor
While she kicks off her black espadrilles that were past their best a year ago
The pink short pile carpet is soft beneath her now-bare feet but itches her legs if she sits on it for too long
She notices that the white flat-pack wardrobe is ajar
And the CD in her hifi has moved on a track
And the room temperature has fallen to less than nineteen
That million-to-one but all too common set of conditions needed to undo a girl in less than ten seconds
It all comes unstuck in her stomach
She can smell the mix of stale sweat and the brandy on his breath
And the therapy that perhaps saved her life once unravels with little resistance, with alarming pace
Sharp icy tears that she cant even feel
The light seems to be switched off and still the chair throws the most peculiar shadows across the room
Not that she can see them, of course
A slideshow of her buried life
She is definitely going to hell. He told her so
She stops breathing. He breathes more heavily than any man needs to
She tries to recreate that dissociation she had such a talent for ten years ago
A betrayal that will break her heart more than she knows at eight
She could more easily reconcile a stranger with these crimes
Maybe she could be loved in this lifetime
Maybe she can cancel out these unimaginable sins
Maybe God might one day forgive her
Her large black leather bag brushes lightly against her blue floral print dress that she bought in the sale
A soft rush of air flows past her as she pushes open the off-white door and closes it behind her
The bag slips off her shoulder and down her arm in one effortless motion, landing with a dull thud on the floor
While she kicks off her black espadrilles that were past their best a year ago
The pink short pile carpet is soft beneath her now-bare feet but itches her legs if she sits on it for too long
She notices that the white flat-pack wardrobe is ajar
And the CD in her hifi has moved on a track
And the room temperature has fallen to less than nineteen
That million-to-one but all too common set of conditions needed to undo a girl in less than ten seconds
It all comes unstuck in her stomach
She can smell the mix of stale sweat and the brandy on his breath
And the therapy that perhaps saved her life once unravels with little resistance, with alarming pace
Sharp icy tears that she cant even feel
The light seems to be switched off and still the chair throws the most peculiar shadows across the room
Not that she can see them, of course
A slideshow of her buried life
She is definitely going to hell. He told her so
She stops breathing. He breathes more heavily than any man needs to
She tries to recreate that dissociation she had such a talent for ten years ago
A betrayal that will break her heart more than she knows at eight
She could more easily reconcile a stranger with these crimes
Maybe she could be loved in this lifetime
Maybe she can cancel out these unimaginable sins
Maybe God might one day forgive her
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