bête noire

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Limbs twined, my cheek to his chest, I inhale his skin between slowing heartbeats, kittening under his hand stroking my hair and nestling into the strength of his ember-warm embrace. My lashes flutter in a latent echo of endorphin trembles, and, stroking my fingertips over his torso, I ask…

What are you afraid of?

…even as I think to myself:

This.

0 thoughts on “bête noire

    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      Lack…? Of fear, or of vulnerability?

      They go hand in hand, I think. Overcoming that fear, to trust, is an act of bravery. Sometimes I have to remind myself of that. 🙂

      To echo the sentiments of Pat Benetar (singing, even): I am a warrior… 😉

      And some things (some people) are worth braving arrows for. 🙂

      Reply
    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      There is a vast difference between being vulnerable *to* someone, and being vulnerable *with* another person. The former is present in the case of the latter, but there is a certain safety in the second. And I am safe. <3

      Reply

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