She let him do it to her because she didn’t believe she deserved great things.
She went there. She put herself in that situation.
She didn’t expect better. She clutched at what she could get.
Less than. Same as her.
She minimised herself. Packed herself tight. Smuggled her way towards a place called Hope.
Until one day, over the course of a thousand days, she knew better.
The sunlight redecorated. She climbed and she freewheeled.
She felt and she cried. She let go and she gathered herself in.
Underwater, she reclaimed her breath.
Now, she’s learning to breathe on solid ground. Heaving. Healing.
Her chest quakes. Her body vibrates.
Sparks of colour. She sails into spiralling dimensions.
Memories land. The mistakes of a fool. She should have said no.
Force and weakness. It wasn’t her fault.
Longing for love. Settling for being used.
Was she ever an infant snoozing in the curve of her Daddy’s neck?
Or has she always been on high alert? Eyes wide. Mouth shut.
Was love expected?
She forgives herself. Absolves them also.
Finds them and loves them in their lost imperfection.
Shakes a wand at the past. Enters the moment.
A great one walks towards her, handsome and smiling. He treats her like a princess, like a baby, like an equal, like a dream.
His love takes her by surprise. She delights and she sabotages.
His love is gentle and powerful. It bursts and it blooms.
She melts into his warmth. She understands, she accepts.
She trusts that there’s enough so now she can give.
Today, in the shower, she has the startling revelation that she does deserve great things.
She steps out, naked. Completely herself.