He captured her when she was still fragile
on the veranda overlooking the sea.
Hum of all things midnight lacing the air,
he pried her kicking and screaming
open into blossom too soon.
Red wine slithered over rim of crystal glass
onto bare white forearm, staining skin,
then shattered hard against pavement.
"I'll break you,” he said and she laughed
sound of falling water,
sound of twinkling bells, sound of breaking glass.
Sighs fall like echoes in hollow coves,
like cries in barren places.
Crawling, on sand scraped knees
thoughts lost in the roar of the ocean,
body shipwrecked by touch and force
she recognizes for the first time
the sound of brutality.
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