He will do the same,
but it won't be the same.
There's a difference in love and lust,
I tell my mind, I hammer it,
saying, "he's the one I chose, the one I trust".

As he placed his hand over my face and asked,
"Is it alright if I touch you?"
my heart agreed, but lips
couldn't move.

As he carried his hands towards my neck,
and repeated the same question,
my forehead began to sweat,
by a flashback on my inward eye,
of wolves feasting on my body,
their filthy nails digging in my skin,
the undesired touch that dried my tears,
and silenced my screams.
"No he wasn't them,"
I tell myself again.

He studied my eyes with a gentle smile
"It's alright, will take this slow."
He kissed my forehead and
he let me go.


Shrutika Kahale