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Again

He held my hand as we walked
Downstairs. Was it to make sure
I came? Or to reassure my thoughts that somehow
He'd help me endure
What was to come.
He opened the door to his bedroom and flipped
On a light
A place hard to miss - his bed -
Produced dreams of flight
He lay me down, no words said
then straddled me
Pressure, then pain, as he mopped up his need
Splitting me in two until he was done
But never finished

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